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Ho-odt,Googk' 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



THE PUSSVIT OF HOLIN^ESS. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 





Works by tfie same Author 




An Introduction to the Devotio 
SoriptureS' 

I!y Edward Mevrick Goui.eurn. 
enlh IflHdoii edition, 3 voL, lamo. t 


nai Study of the Holy 

IS','!—- '-"■•■■'■ 


Being a T«MiK on .hs ChrisUan Life in its two 
Devotion and Practice, With two n=w cliapnaa not 
lions. By EnwARD Mevfick GoutsoKB, D. D. W 
NotebyGaoKGEH, Houghton, D. D. ■■i.oL,.adio 


•sir 


The Idle Word; 

Short EcliEions Essa 


"..";rsA=,E*-' 


5 Employment 


Office of th< 
Prayer, 

A Serie 
Evangdisl. 

Sermons P 
During 


Holy ConuaunloiL i 

e Epiacopal Sctvico in the 


a the Book of Common 

ths Church of St. John the 
United States. 1 vol., .=mo. 


Cluih. |i 


n Various 




..Go....... 




D. APPLET ON 


& CO., p.. 


blishers. 



Ho;-dt,GoOgk' 



THE PURSUIT OF 
HOLINESS: 

A BEQISGL "SO 

"THOUGHTS ON PERSOML RELIGIOIf." 



rO CARRY THE READER SOMEWHAT FURTHER 
OmVARB IN THE SPIRITUAL LIFE. 



EDWAED MEYRICK GOULBURN, D. D., 



NEW YORK: 

D, APPLETOH" & OOMPAWY, 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



THE EARL OF DERBY, K.G., 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



TO THE EEABEE. 



A PEW prefatory words on the objeot of this little 
treatise, and on th.e spirit and method in whicii it is 
meant to be perused, may, it ia hoped, enable the 
Header to profit more by it than he othenvise would 
do, while at the same time it may serve to avert cer- 
tain criticisms, to whicli the writer cannot but feol 
that, as a piece of religious literature, his work is 
justly exposed. 

My "Thoughts on Personal Eeligion" have met 
with some success (more, I imagine, because so many 
are nowadays craving for bclp and guidance in the 
matter of personal religion, than on account of any 
merit or originality in the " Thouglits ") ; and I have 
received assurances from trustworthy quarters tliat 
the book has been made useful (under Gfod's bless- 
ing) to many. Between such persons and myself I 
feel that a sort of bond has been established, to the 
obligations of whicli I desire to be faithful. Our 
paths in life may never Lave crossed — nay, we may 
be very remote from one another {for the book 
has been kindly and warmly received on the other 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



viii To the Rcad&T. 

side of the Atlantic) ; but they have been pleased to 
acknowl l^e the sehes as 1 elped ly me m the most 

tally mpo tant of all hun an concerns a d tl e 
'\ knovlclgiic t la nal mp aln ost re„art then 
^s f they ere n y flo L in 1 I the r \ astor I 

n nded to t y to Ic 1 tl em o a littl farthe \ 
to nvet the rnprea^ o s heady made u] on tl m 
[ artly by \ esent g f n r toj cs o n v 1 1 1 
pa Uy 1 J gu ling the to f el 1 of tl It 1 ttlo 
le s elen e ta 

It 16 obvio 3 that 11 a de gn w H Uj n e oj 
o a onallj to the h^rge of lepeit n„ m self I 
fJljdlmt cli 1 H o^ nl im jrejarei t( J at fj 
mj self under it. Although I ha^e novei: consaousli/ 
quoted from myself, I doubt not that many paasages 
\vill be found in this work, bearing a cloae resem- 
blance (in style aa well as sentiment) to others which 
occur in its predecessor. Must it not of necessity be 
so in in all books whose scope is to inculcate practical 
righteousness ? Even inspired Apostles were not 
ashamed of reiterating their exhortations — nay, they 
regarded their doing so as the security of their dis- 
ciples: "To ■write the same thin^ to you, to me 
indeed is not grievous, but for you it is sff^e." And 
St, Peter, in i ging upo i the faithli 1 that grow th 1 1 
grace, that ' going on fion strength to stK,ngtl 
whereby alone ai al undant entriice slioull 1 
ministered mt:) thtm n to lie eierh'it g Im^loii 



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To the Jieader. ix 

of our Lord and Saviour Jesua Christ," expressly saya 
that they needed coDtimial reminding of the necessity 
of this progress and growth ; " Wterefore I will not 
he negligent to put you always in remembrance of 
these things; though, ye know them, and be estab- 
lished in the present truth. Yea, I tliink it meet, as 
long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir you up, hy put- 
ting you in remsmin-anoe." Within certain limits 
notMng new can be said (or ought to be demanded) 
in religious exhortations. All that can be done here 
in the matter of originality is, that the old truth 
should be presented in a new light, and (which is 
of even more importance than newness of aspect) 
pressed home upon the conscience of the learner with 
a fresh interest in the mind, and a fresh glow in the 
heart, of the teacher. 

Nor can I think that those readers for whom 
chiefly this volume is designed, Tvill resent its occar 
sionally speaking in accents with which they ai-e 
more or less familiar, A man who reads for devotion 
is not apt to be scandalized by having old truths 
pressed upon him. It is he only who reads for curi- 
osity, or to amuse his mind with speculative cjues- 
tions, who is impatient of what he has heard before. 
And this work is designed not so much as a theo- 
logical treatise (for the composition of which its 
writer is by no means furnished, and in which char- 
acter, therefore, it might be found grievously defec- 

Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



X To t/ie Header. 

tive) as to be a help to earnest strivers in tlie spirits 
ual life. It is true that, in parts of it, I have found 
myself led into an analysis of human motives, and an 
investigation of human nature, ivHch might seem at 
first sight to belong rather to the theory than tlio 
practice of religion; but this is because I perceive 
such analysis and investigation really necessary to 
the satisfactory adjustment of some practical question 
wMoh has arisen, not because I have for a moment 
fijrgotten tiiat I am engaged in endeavoring to direct 
souls, and to bring myself and others to an experi- 
mental knowledge of Grod. And let me ask you, 
Reader, in this connection, to regard the book as a 
book of devotion, and to read it in a method accord- 
ant with that view of it. It is offered to you simply 
as a help in the spiritual life ; accept it as such. Do 
with it as you haVe done ■with the many better books 
of the same character, which from time to time have 
fallen into your hands. Read it in order, a little at 
a time, and exercise your mind upon the argument, 
that you may imbibe whatever may be sound and 
spiritual in it, and reject whatsoever may be not in 
accordance with Holy Scripture and the mind of the 
Universal Chm^h. 

And oh I dear soul, created in God's Image, and 
ransomed with His Blood, whom it has been vaj de- 
sire to serve and help by these instructions, if they 
shall at any times approve theroselvos to thee as scr- 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



To the Reader. xi 

viceable and helpful, forget not in. thy prayers him 
who needs such service and help even more than 
thj^elf. The authors of such books are almost sure 
to be thought by strangers far better men than in 
truth they are. But a moment's consideration of the 
way in which all works of spiritual counsel must be 
framed would dissipate the delusion, as well as (it is 
earnestly hoped) justify tlie writers from the charge 
of hypocrisy. Such counsels are addressed, then, in 
the first instance, to the writer's own heart, on the 
assumption that his experience wili be that of hun- 
dreds of others. They are virtually an attack upon 
his own faults, an exposure of his oivn weak points, 
a development of any thought in which he has him- 
self found light, comfort, and encouragement. So far, 
therefore, from assuming that the writer is himself 
strong on the points on which ho writes strongly, it 
should rtCtber be assumed that these are the points on 
which he is really weak,' while his conscience and his 
knowledge of the truth tell Iiim tliat he ought to be 
strong. To no higher standard of goodness does 
such a writer lay claim than this — that he himself 
strives to live up to the arduous requirements of 
Christianity ; that he is painfully sensible of falling 
short of the mark; that, like Gideon's troop, lie is 

' To show that I mean wliat I am aajing, I may observe that 
ekip. If. is directed against a faulty habit of mind, of ivhioh I 
myselfamODly tc 



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xii To the. Meader. 

often " faint," and " yet pursuing ; " anrl that, in the 
exercise of Christian sympathy, as well as from the 
desire of making full proof of his ministry, he longs 
to help tiiose who ave esperieocing the same difScul- 
ties ■with himself, and to whisper into their ears 
(whether from the pulpit or the press) any words of 
light and comfort which may have reached his own 
soul &om above. Without this low degree of Chris- 
tian experience, no one could hope to make a success- 
ful appeal to the hearts and consciences of his fellow- 
men ; and whatever his counsels may seem to import 
as to his own state, the present writer entreats the 
reader to give him credit for nothing more. For 
awfiil, indeed, are the responsibilities of making a 
high religious profession ; and he who by such a pro- 
fession lifts himself above the crowd, resembles Nel- 
son, when appearing with all his orders at Trafalgar 
— he is only too likely to make himself a mark for 
tlie fiery darts of the great enemy. How shall we 
not tremble for the risks which are run by ordinary 
teachere of Divine truth, when even St, Paul (after 
and notwithstanding all the sacrifices he had made 
for Christ) felt that without self-<»ntroI and mortifi- 
cation of the lower instincts he himself might " be- 
come a castaway?" Reader, pray that such may not 
be the doom of him who in these pages addresses you. 
E. M. G. 
KissiNGEN, AiigvM 19, 1869. 



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CONTENT 8. 



CHAPTER I. 



THAT HOLINESS I 



" El'ms vias a man subject Id like pasdoiis as uwoi-e." — J Aims v. ll 
" Ofinfto'in ilie world was not iBorihy." — Heu. si. 38, 

L ftin a of Blijali'fl chaiacter aa a Balut— hia weakness iis ex- 
li b tea in liB Soriptnres— a wrong esttoate of aalnfllneaa eeam 
pu out of onr reach— I. T/ie remoa qfiMs wrong estimate— 
lis k tlie ere tn survejing a dlalant iBndecspe, iioiveTai' 
p in Ue rick of tke memorj in survejlng b leniote period, of 
wby should not ChriBriauB nowadBja be as zealous and 
d jjd as the Apostles and prlmltlye aalnta?— alL tiie foi-oes 
h h mad tho Apoatles aalnta are operative now— II. ffiHu the 
& p uBveot this siilstaken, esfJuiod!— inatanees of elnftil Infli'- 

m ty m H w Teetameiit saints— quarrel of St. Panl and St. Bar- 
nalffls h th parties in the wrong— even Apostles tad their trials 
of temper— erroneous notions of the moral effects of the Fente- 
coatal efflisiOH— how tliese are corrected by Scripture in eonnodjou 
with St. Peter's hiatory— The Holy Spirit in man's soul a growing 
and expansive force — t^ checks and drawbacks which Grace e:?- 
periencos in oni- nature and tircurostances — m. Our •anderBBluO' 
Hon qf soteii wl^ theg are with ws, and the amies (^ i(— Death 
often opens our eyes foe the first Ume to the aaintliness of the 
departed— practical inferences from tMB—CondtifUia. We are not 
to Ihhiliany height of sanctity abose onr roach— we only need the 
Mth, hope, and love of primitive saints to acblevo Bplritnnl mar- 
yaia— tha reason of our low aplritual standard to be songbt only In 
InliBwnrmnesB, laggarduessofwill, audwantof spiritual energy, . 



Ho;-dt,CoOgk' 



CHAPTER, II. 

WHAT HAVE WB TO BEGIN UPON? 

" Anil he w/M fain have filled his belli/ lailh ilie h-ualca that the 

smrte did ecU ; and bo man gave tmlo him. 
" And when he carae to himself, he said, Mom many hired seraanis 

of im) father's haiie bread ewagh and to spare, and I perish with 

hunger! 
•■^ I will arise and go lo mff faOier." — J.VSM iv. lfl-18, 

Intheattalnmeatof HolluBsa, how are we to begin t— the eamsBt 
beginning eontaina the genn of Bitura succeBS, ani! is half tta 
battle— we must begin upon the gcnce of BaptiBm— special bless- 
ing of Is/aM BnptiBm, that it anticipalca the dnim of moral liite-^ 
I. Tlie relationship contraetetl hy Bo^Utn, independent of the coo- 
diict of the baptized— (3ie prodigal son a eon still, though minottbj 
to he called one— passages of Scilpt«re considered, irhich seem to 
connect DlTlno Bonahip wltli abeWnenoe from eln- the teconcHla- 
tlim of these passages nith the doctriiie of BaptiEmal B^eneratjou 
— n. The Grace beslMeed in Bo^Um appetti'a first in the ahape of 
"good, dealres"— fh des Bplfidtb n ubn 

blossom which gire prom rut— h praa B m 

Giiwe in wilM and d t^-G d ac h wh 

retntn to Blm from m dia pp In m ea e — 

thla Is Bliown tn tb P rab Prod gal— na i 

Frodlgol'a moflTBS— ffl ooH g w rd mix d p 

■wilb Hie disappointm S P 11 p pro d toq O 

Lord— ejhibitioa of d n F w mi 

buman sonl— bcsnlifnl miags from St. I'ron^ois do Sales s treatise 
on '• The LoYO of God •■— MdreBS of the writer to rosdera mbo may 
hBTB wandered flir away from God— God never compels to holi- 
ness — we must yield outBelves np willingly to the instigations of 



CHAPTER in. 

THE IIBST PSINCIPLE OF HOLINESS, AND HOW TO 



" He entered into the 8jn<^o^e ami taught : and there viaa a man. 

whose right hand via» wiHwred. And looking round 

about upon them all. He said mito i!ie man, Slretdi forth thy 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



TtP flscliratlon tliat RitU I9 tlie gilt ol God, la oonsMiisn by 
BoDieas thongh the; conld do notblDg toward Uie attaiaoieDt of 
U, but must slmplj irait till It comes— nSFrntire ot the col's of tbe 
ivithetGd bond adapted to correct tblB error— baud tbe oi:gaii of 
touel— toucU convinces ua, mora tbau other aenaee, of the reality 
of matter- ftiitb convinces us of tbe reality of things nneeen- the dif- 
ference between imagining spliltiurl truths and believing them— man 
baa a natnrfll fiicitlty of Eillh Khkli can grasp thinga lylne wltbln 
tbe horizon of time, but not beyond— how tbis is emblematised In 
the narrative of tbe witiiored hand— the healing virtue, whereby the 
curs waa wrought, ivaa in Our Lord— yet the patient waa required 
to do Bometblng, in order to derive tbie Tlrtue into bis band— Our 
Lord conunnnded him to do that which he could not do before 
he waa healed— and tbe patient understood that he muat make an 
eSbrt to do it— the band stretched toward Christ Is tbe smblcni of 

policy then la to make an effort to stretch forth tbe hand- principle 
is only shown in praying, when the conrsa of prayer does not run 
amootli- the realhlng graap oE felth upon things eternal, not to be 
hM without a vigorous effort— the roailcr cuunaullcd io mako this 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE POINT OF DEPAKTUEE IS THE EIOHT COURSE. 
"For l!ie invisibls ihioffs of Elm from the creatian of Hm aiyrld are 
dearly seen, being v-nderstood b^ tJte things thai are made, eeen 
Sis elerifd pomer and Godhead; so that they arevit/umt enmse: 
SaraKEB thai, tehen they kn^ie God, they glorified Sim not as 
God, neilfi^r mere ihaakftil ; bzit became vain in their imoffina- 
lUns, and their foolish heart viaa darkened. Professing them- 
selves ta he wise, they became foo!s, and changed the glori; of the 
v/ncorrofptSik Qodinlo an image irtadB like to corruptible man, OMt 
to birds, andfoar-fKKded beails and creeping things Wherefore 
God also gave them p to nc nes rough isfe / heir 

oion hearts, io tUshono tliei a bodies bet -en hemad es ' — 
Roa. i, 20-24, 
The moralist, in gi ta 



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finger on the tiSMt point at which oup nature diverged from the liglit 
path— mim'a aegradntlon a relrihutlon itor Ms haflpfi aegmflea God 
In his conceptiona of Him—Nature might imte given him trae 
coniepHoDS of Qotl, but he could not rise to such eonCBptiooe- 
idolalry the ftmdamBntal sin— the quick deterioration of Idolatiy— 
Ifthe point of flepartuiBlhr vice bean UQWortlir conception or God, 
tho 'point of depapture for Tiftiie must be a worOiy conceptloa of 
Him— aith the sprhig of all virtne— Low fiiia in God must flow 
ont of, and rcBolva itaelf intfl, high conceptions of Hts eharaelei^ 
the cbild'B fa.\tb In Its parenta ausiyzed'-the Sjraphcenician'e IBltli 
in Christ ttnaijaed— she Iwid gained her conceptions of God ftom a 
devout ohaervatlon of His dealings Id HatDre and PfovIdencB— 
how the Lord's Prayer tencLoa that lofty notjona of God ai^e tho 
chief Ingrodient in forming the chaiatter to ciehteouBnesB— the 
Psalmist's reference to the leaaona taught bjNatura— the reference 
to them in the Book of Jo&-error of Christiana in deapiaing the 
revelation made in Nature— on Bim!lar principles, they might deaplae 
the Old Testament, and make l^ht of Onr Lord's Parahles— study 
the Geulfloa' Bible, as well as that of the Jews, itnd that of tho 
Chriatjans 8 



CHAPTER V. 



''Increasing in iJie knowledge of God."-^Co!,. i. 10. 

Time and energy saved by apprehending clearly, before we start, 
the end of religious endeaioi-— the end Is sucli an appreciation of the 
beaut? of God's character as satiafies the soul, in the absence of all 
earthly sources of happhiees— St. Philip's petition to Christ, and ita 
unconsotoua depth— unsatisftctoriness of created good— but there 
must be a good, which ia capable of contenting the soul, becauee 
God creates no strong instinct without something correspondlHg to 
It— even theAtoaement is only a means to communion with God— 
(heqaoetion raised and answered, "Does not the Decalogue give ns 
two enda ot religious endeavor ! "—how the love of our nei^bor re- 
solves itself Into tJie love of God- practical nee of the BUb]ect, as 
showing what religious eiercleea are likely to yiehi the largest retiun 
—I. How the knowledge ot God may be ^ned by continually refcp- 
ling to Him in ejaculatory prayer— II, Also by constant meditation 
on Holy Scripture— UI. Also by the discipline of life, and God's prov- 
Idenllal dealings with us— our fenowledge of God is to he thought of 
as progressive on the other aide of the grave as well as on this, . d 



Ho;-dt,CoOgk' 



CHAPTEB VI. 



" S'oio the end of l/ie eomniofufcieni is charHy Old of a pare heart, 
and of a good mnedense, mid of faith 'unfagned; from aiS«A 
some having smei-ved, ftave tm-ned aside iinlo bomb jangling." — 
I Tiu. i. 5, 6. 

The melapiior useil hySt. Paul in speaking of the "end of the 
commandment" — cori-oborationB of the sentlnient [rom otUer parts of 
Ho!j Scriptnra— In orller to a student's proficiency in any ftrt, hia 
oltleotmuBtbeclearlydeflnod— eiamplQ drawn from oratoiy, and lis 
epaclal approprlatsness — example di'awn from painting— queetion 
raised, "What !b the paintec'B true endt "—the end in religion Is 
snpTooie love to Ood, and the SJuue love to oar nsighhor which wo 
bear to ooraelvea— the relation of ordinances to the end— the relation 
of good works to tiie end— energy saved hy hestowlng it in ths right 
qasrtei^the spirit which our actiona evince of much greater impor- 
tance than the thing done— how the perception that God'a eroat re- 
qniremeul Is a lovhig conedence in Himaelf simpUfles onr work in 
returning to Him after a ail— loving coiifldance, the only aourca of 
true repentance— as fbr Atouoment, it mtist 1>3 wholly left to Christ, fi3 



CHAPTER VII. 



" Thou thalt lorn l!ce Lord thp God willi all thy lieaH, and imih ail 
% so-al, aad mtlt all Sig itreiufik, ^id Willi all tliy mind." — 
Ltnti X. 27. 



:. I»B;Doe(y!m(ii!\)J((!rec(i<Hi— ItBdistincHon from the 
love of gratitnde, and from that of moral esteem- it is of the nature 
of an inBtJnct— ia Been eren in tlie lower anlmalB— God lidng our 
Father, this love BioHld flistsu upon Him. as Its supreme ohjact— the 
tender love of God for all His Cf^oiarej— the atili tenderer bond of 
Fatherhood, which bindfl Him tn Hia i^aprinir— this love will spring 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



up in the Heart, if we listen to Oai Loid'a annouHcemeDt of Ood's 
Fathoriiood— IL The low i)f smtiiuOe— it is not the benefit oonferred 
whlcb gives rise ta It, bnt the ^iad sentlmeut of tlie beue&ctor— how 
Uii9 is apparent In childre]i~th« love of gratitnde the great moral 
ongino which the Gkjspel emplojs— God's love, oa evinced hy the gift 
of cjjrlst for ua, liegetB love— III. The love qf numtl eeteem—iD it wo 
lovo Ood, not for what He la to ns, bnt for what He Ss ta Hlmeeir— 
the moral escelleuce of God's character compared to the beaatj of 
light—ilght, n oomponnd of sombre and bright rays — holiness and 
lore tempered together ta God's character— the esMbition of both 
attribnMB in Christ's Croea— tJie eshibition of both nttribntea In 
Christ's perEOo— ebonM wo have admired the stamer, as well as the 
softer, Bido of Christ's character !— IV. The lovs qf SaneroJeiMis— be- 
nevolence, the feeling whlcli prompts to beneficence— shown io be 
qnita disUact from ostBBm— this sentiment will lead ua to fiiriher 
God's CHBse to the utmost oC our power— the petitioner in the lord's 
Prayer is supposed to bo animated by thia spirit— to grow la grace la 
to be conformed to the spirit of tha Lord's Prajer, . . , . fi 



CHAPTER vnr. 



" la iJie last dag^ thai great day of the feast, Jesua stood and cried, 
sa^ng, Jf aay man thir^, let him, come wniO J^, aitd drink. 
He iJiat belieiicth on Mc, as the 8cr^>turc Jtalh said, out of his 

belly shall Jloa fiziers of living leatef J/araj of the 

2)eople therefore, wJien Hieg heard this m>/inff, said, Of a truth, 
IIiU ia ihe Prophet. Others said. This is dfo Christ." — John vli 
8T, 38, 10, 41. 

The words of Chrlat eatisfled a certain yearning In the sonls of 
Hia hearers— the aecret nfllnlty between parties tn frlenfiBhlp, in vir- 
tue of which one snppliea what the other needs— ftiendBbip resnlta 
from the attraction of related dlBalmUars— atBnitlea In Nature be- 
tween totally distinct objects— affinity' between God and man, by 
which they are rccipiocally necessary to one another — 1. Mart's need 
ijf GW— need which oB the creatures have of God, In ordev to their 
being and well-being— man's Intdleetuai craving after the Inflnitfl— 
man reaching forth after truth, but unsatlafled with every tmth he 
readies — Qod Is Light, and He alone Uierefore can satlsly' this crav- 
ii^— man's moral craving aller tite Infinite Good— how the liunser of 



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maii'9 spirit nfWr gooil ie shown in IRe esceseee of intemperance, into 
whicli Uie lower animals Ho no t Kill— tho puror nnd more reflnod fomiB 
of created ROOd, and aow they alenppoint iis— how our thhst after joy, 
aftei' esteem, after sjinpath;, is sati^Sed b; communion with God, and 
Tiy that alone— n. God's mea of man, as a field of display foe His per- 
fections— evil seoms to baTo been permitted, that God may liave ecopo 
Ibrthe eihtbitlon ofniamaroy— the "deep" of man's misery calls to 
the " deep " of God's mecey— illnstration from human life— the bonu- 
HfU! man neefllng an object of bounty— how Christ's tovltatlon to the 
people to tome to Him and drink Bhows him to bs God-^o to Him, 
if yon foci thehuogev and thirst of the soul 1 



CHAPTER IX. 



" God said, lid «a ma/^e man itt our image, afte>' oa?' Ukfacss."- 
Gem. i £6, 

Man, alone of all creatnras, made In God's Image— fimn the oon- 
Bidei-aUon of (he afBnity, resulting from (he oorresponflenee between 
man's needa and Ood's Illness, we pass (o the affinity iuTolved in 
man's filial TelaUonship to God— man's llkenaBs to God— L In ths 
amtHiulioit of Me naiure— human natnre presents an image of the 
Trinity la Unity— "body, sotil, and spirit," their distinctness, and 
yet their unity in each man— the mystery of tlie Divine Natnre hardly 
greater than that of the honxan — H. Zn Ms itaHrai potverB-^) inlei' 
ledtiel—Viiia a creator in art, la poetry. In music, in ciyillzatfon geH- 
erally— the lower animals only piuducecfl — U) in. Ms moral pou/ere— 
(Vee-will, ■with the rattonal eonnael inTolved in 11— how a Arm assur- 
ance of the Belt-detarminlDg power of the will may be of service to 
ns in the moment of temptaUon— how the fhct that all men are made 
InGDd'a Image, and thus bear matkB of eonehip (oHIra, Iscompatl- 
Tile with the Soriptara! ascription of sonship only to the beliBVmg 
and baptized— man, originany God's Child, and stll! hearing traces of 
being BO, has been dl^nheilted by the FaH^the hnmau Ibmily re- 
con8tl(ii(ed In the Second Adam— adralaslon to membership in this 
neiT'ConeS(n(ed BarMy by belief and Baptism— how (he Gospel call 
lo communion with God implUa a hmdamental afBnity to Ood-^ths 
reader oihorted to meditate on God's Batbechood, and especially on 
the way in which He lias condeacendBd to ebow Hia fttherly'loye, by 
eeshing man in all the degradaUon of Ills sin, i 



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CHAPTER S. 

OF THE WAY IN WniCII GOD HAS MADK THE PEJE 
CBPT OP DIVINE LOYE PKACTIOAEIB TO US BT THJ 
UfCAENAUON. 

" He diat kalh seen Me IialJi seen ffie Fatlter." — Jons sir. 9. 

Incompetoncr or aentimimlSf as dlstiDct from principles, to work 
a cbaiige of chai-sctei^tlie (Hfficitlty of loving God wUliout a, deflnlta 
conception of Him, anfl the difflcnlty of definitely conceiving Him— 
wliat are alTecUau and ^^mpathr, ae tliey esbt in llie Divine Hataro 7 
— Tmt tho Nature of God Is loaae fty tlie Incamnrion level to onr con- 
ceptions — Ulnattatlou ^m ilie ^nnlight, wMch onn only l>e Intellt- 
gently Btudied liy looking at it through the medlnm of Uie prism oc 
the m\ji&ro^s—Qod made lenel to BUT apprelssntlojis in the Person of 
Christ— tho stem elements In Our Lord's eharooter, and their adjust- 
ment with Uie tender elements— (?0(2 fnadelev^ to our symjialhieii In 
tho Pei-Bon of Chrlel— the emotions of One Lord's heart ore 3 transla- 
Uon Into the language of Immunity of the (to us incomprshenslble) 
affeoUODS of the Divine Mind— yet, as we have never seen Christ, 
how is His InoamBtlon siicli an advantage to us, aa supplying ns 
vilQi definite conceptions of God f— admitted dlfflcnlty of believini; 
and loving wtthont seeing — we must remember ttat acgnaintance 
wltk Cliiist upon earth was attended with compensatin); dlsodvan- 
lages, from whicli our view of Him is free— also wo mnat l>eQi' in 
mind tJie esact portmiture of HiEi Tiy the ETangellats, and the font 
diffei'eDt points of view teoia which those poi'traita are taken— do ve 
lore Uie whole ctaracter which they portray, Its sterner as well ua 
lis nulder eleroenS ?— or are we loving an ideal Chilst iiietcnd of llio 
true one— or is it a docti'Ine ive love, and not n pei^soo !- tie great 
difference Ijetvreen heing jnsHfied Tiy faith, and believing in the doc- 
Uine of justification Dy &ith— the lovo of Christ conforms ua to Hia 



CHAPTER XI. 

OP THE LOVE OIC GEATITUDE. 

" We love Sim, 6ecO!(sc He first loved «s." — 1 JoRS iv. 10. 

The love of graUtnde (leflned to be a senao of Qoa's love— dletme- 
tioD. between thia and a feeling awakened by God's love— Illustration 
from nature— the qiUcKenlng of the seed by the Biiu'a warmth is an 



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Blliaci prodQoeii by the sun ; but tbe laetfe of tlie inoon ia only ann- 
llgM reflactefl from the moon— so oar love to God Is netaally dod'a 
lore to us, Bhaa aliroad to ouv heiulE by ae Holy Ghost— I. If (Mb be 
BO, the more foil j wo eapOBe onr hearts to the loye ot Goi (ho moro 
we shall love Him— gL'ouucIlesB apprehensions ef sianeis feelius fieo 
to sin, if the love of God is too flillj and fcealy eihlhited to them— 
the jswel comiot sparMo nithont light which ic may reflect ; nor tlie 
heart wiaoat love which it may reflect— U. Thei'a cau be no meilt in 
merely giTing back tint which God Blieds on us— no merit therefore 
in loving Him— and therefore no merit In any form of human Tiilne 
— m. What hinders ns ftom so realiaiug God's love as to love Him 
in return- the apiritnal state of tho heathen, compared to that part of 
the earth's extrl^e which. Is turned away from the suit — the spliltuFil 
state of the unbelieriug ChrisUan compared In that of a man who 
hides hlmaelT in a hovel from the snrtouudlng light of day— two great 
truths nhi^^h must bo kept in sight, in seehiug a realizing Ihltb— 
ftom which tmtha flow these couuaela — I. Seek for feith In pi'ajer— 
earnestness in prayer is Itself an answer to such prayers, because we 
cannotpi'ay eacoestlywlthouta certain measure of fallh.— II. Make the 
loi-e of God in the free ^ft of His Son Ibr sinners a subject of medl- 
tatlou— think what love (he Bacriftco ot a Son must Import-III. Act 
aa if you had the ffiith and love lo which you nspire, and in fecWy 
practising, the Divine Power Bball come to jon 11 



CHAPTER Xn. 



" re aal toM Uie Lord, hate ct;Z."— Pa. scvii. 10. 

Heasons why we are Bpeeially prone to deceive onrselvos as 
to our love toward God— a practical lest of this love deairabie- 
our perfect acquaintance with, and therefore definite conception of. 
moral evil — evil the opposite of God. as darkness ia of light — t^ 
hate evil is, therefore, to love God— difference between the mere 
avoidance of alu, and the hati-ed of it— cases where we avoid with- 
ont hating— sin often treated with levity by Ihose not personslly 
Implicated Jn it— the aenaibility of man to physical evil— a peridot 
mond slate wonM Involve lie same senalbillty to rooral ertl-Onr 
Lord eiempUflod thia moral bod aihilitj— probable nature of His 
snffevhiga lo tte agony— He bad lived fmmaJl eternity in a sphere 

Human Natnre— supposed case, by which wo may in some measure 



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I— tho totm in which 
ChriBfB hiitretl of sin showea tlaelC— His atsm fnlminations asalnal 
lijpc«ri6j, ond dflninst those who would dlsBUttdB men ft-om receiv- 
ing the anUdota Ho bronght^eameneBa of principle In the doiimi- 
clations uttered by St Paul, St John, 8t, Stephen— the strength 
of chatacter Inhei'ant in'tmB loye— its intolerance of tiilal error— 
are wo affectea with antSpatliy towara the evil in ouiBeivest— do 
we treat eln, when seen in othacB, with levity S— how far have wo 
escaped the latitndinaiianiarii of our flge f— eshoi-tntion to begJH 
wiWi the negnUve alda of tho love of God, and work np lo ISe 
positive y. 



CHAPTER Sni. 



" The light of Ihe lody U ihe eye : if therefore thine ei/e be single, iliy 
laliole iodg shoJl be fail of %7it Sal if thine eye be evil, thy 
roSofe body shall be fall of darhuss. If therefore the liglit thai 
is in thee be darkness, how great is tliM darkness I " — SliTT. vL 
32, 33. 

The llsht thrown upon the pBBsagB at tlio head of tho Chapter by 
Iho contest in whidi it occura— two extirane moral statea ileecrlbed 
by Our Lord— the intennediate ei 
—rational intention the eye, or ohi 

-no such Intention apparent in the actions of antteale- 1 
of heroic action? dne to the motive which prompts tl 
pllclty of intention possible K 
nature— man, the moat complex of the ereatnrce, and therefore 
liable to the operation of more than one motive— four distinct 
views with which a man may take tood— absolute singleness of 
motive very rare— the lelatlons of man to soclaty a aouree of coni- 
plezlty of motive— how huroon respect is apt to Interfere with 
religious pmity of mollTC— how it la made evident that Cimrch- 
going among the poor often Howe from human respect— how the 
same thing Is often mads evident among the rich— Iiow we may 
cnltivale Bunplli^ty of motive— first, by probing oar motlvea in 
salf-eiamlnation— secondly, by practising virtnea whldi are hidden 
from tho eyes of men— the toIus of private davottona— tho spirit 
which may bs infoeed into the most commonplace dntles aud 
conttfisles of lire— utter sSortcoratog of our beat riehteonsnoss, in 
view of the truth that tho motive datarmlnea tha moral character 
of our nctlona— connection of this Bnbjact with Ihe argnment of the 



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Contents. 

nay be clglit wlUionl, 



jietfett our motlvaa, 



CHAPTER XIV". 

PEACE OF C 



The Btrons empbaala with which St. Paal wlahsfl "peace" toWs 
converts-^forCB of the worcls "alwars," " by all means," "glTe," 
^'Jicarti^ and mlnda ^^— how tho Importance of tbebleBsIng of peaco 
and ils conuection wtlh boUaeea Is recognized In tbe Sally Horning 
and Breali^, Office of aa Chncch— I. iVnce ^ ajiMCience— the first 
lamiaslon of IMs peace by simple Mlh In Chtlat— Ita subseqiiant 
detention by Eeir-OlBclpline and leneiced acts of fUith— perioaical 
self esamination and confession to Qod— confeaalon \a a, aplritnal 

Fiaii qf heajt—fXl wider aiKCJe(ies— refer tbe case to God, and 
1 nve it wUb Htm, not anflbrlng the mind to revert to it— prejudice 
(lone by fmitlesB sniletjto the aplritnal Ufa— (3) name rnlo to bo 
observed Jimfsr ijiiMs rif fentpB)"— the ttanquUlMne power of tlie 
thought of God's Presence— Irritating topics nraat be dropped— the 
opening given )o (be devil by chei'lsliea anger— God'a Spirit can 
make no comnmnlcatioEs to a tnrbid, agitated eoiil, . . . li 



CHAPTER XV. 



" And He mid urUo anolher, J'Mow Me. £ui he said, Lord, suffer 
mejirat logo and hiry my falser. Jesna said tmtohim. Let t7ii 
dead bary their dmd : Jmiffoiluni and p^ach the kmi/dom of 
(?oii"— Luke Li. B9, 60. 

In order to live tn peace, we mnat live in th.o proeont— differenca 
between tbia and living /itf the present— all our energy needed for 
proKcnt duties— the following of Cbdat cannot be taken up as o 



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bywork— tandencj of Bib natnra! m!nd to live eitlier la the past or 
tlie fntnre— Iiow Our Lord's words, "Let tha dead Imry thair 
dead," muBt be undBrstoocl— oil thinRB die when llielr Uine liaa 
expired — ttansltfliy charActBF of childhood— of Imman opiniona — 
ot hnmsn inslitntioiis— taonastio inetitntlona a casa In point— 
jeaming of the natnral mind after llio poat— monastic ejBieoi lias 
<lono its work, and espired, and cannot be revived— now forms of 
tionght neither to be admitted -without examination, nor to ho 
discarded haatil j— the past of oar own life miKt not be too fondlj 
dwelt upon — paasagea In wbich tbe Law and tha Prophets, as -well 
ns tae Gospel, teach this-aentlment, In order 1o be sound, must be 
in accordance with trnUi— the days ot ciiiJdliood had their troablea, 
as well as later days — the trick of memorj', wliioli makes us believe 
that foi-mei: days wore better than Bieae— Christ has for thoae who 
wort In Hia Kingdom a reward batter than any lliej have yet 



CHAPTER XVI. 



"Bs coident viiihsuth thinffs ok ye have." — Heb. liii, E. 

The connection traced between this and the preceding cbaptei^ 
our pronenoBs to live In tha future rather than in the present- 
especially developed )n youUi- the tenrtencr of tbapi-ascnt age to 
foBlern resUass desire fora better posiljon— the Serlptoral precepts 
to abide in, aud ba content with, our present positiOQ— toncbing 
osample of (he Shunammlte— the principle of reat, and the principle 
of pn^resB, in our natnce, and how they each operate upon (Sat 
which is the end of the other— we muat restore thoae prfnciples to 
their right ftanotione— importance of redeetolng present opportu- 
nities, and OTyoying present privileges— St. Paulas advice to the 
alBVB not to push for IChetty. and the emphatic lesson of content- 
ment which it tBnchf«-his advice JusUfled by the consideration of 
the " eliortnesfl of the time " which remains to ns— the nnspeaiiable 
importancB of otemlty throws into the shade our earthly di'cum- 
stancea— the I'estleas discontent which <s now abroad, with the 
Church of our Baptismr-<mr Church offers hb more opportunities 
than we avail ourselves of, ot serving God. autl benefiting man— a 
perfect communion not to be fbund upon earth— duty of acc[nieBciug 
thankfully in out ecclesiastical position, n 



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CHAPTER XVII. 

THE CliiMTiill'ETAL J 

Ouji 7!&nss s'tai Xeirovfryuca wviiifiaTa, eic Suumviav awoaTefJ-d/ieva 
6iil rrni; /li'AJiovrag lA^poroiieiv aar^plav ; " Are they not all 
mimslerinff spirits, sent forSi to minister for lliem who shall be 
/mrs o/salvaiion ?" — Heb. 1. 14. 

Caaa of a fleyont man who craves attor a ragiilir pui^uit— 
quaation ralaod wlvother encli a craving ia part of liemloa's consti- 
liitlOE, or part ot Ita diaeaae— prattieal Importanco of tbe question 
— advaniage of Btudylng thia qneatlon in tha ease of Iho Angels, 
i-ather than in tliat of men— the Angela proposed to ns bj Onr 
LocaBsamodelofhumandntj— fcitareof Uie English TranalaUon 
to fopteaent the point of Heli. 1. 14— twofold fnnotion of the Angela 
as ofBclBlJng piieBts in the Heavenly Temple, aiifl aa employed on 
ministries of mere; to the hairs of salvotioQ—diecrimination of 
Ihosa ftmctionB in the Collect Irti 6t. Mlcliael- the Angela eihlbited 
to HS in Holy Scrfptnre in hoth chanictBrs— two lendenciea in the 
conatltHtlon of oTery mtional being, a desire for esteroal work, and 
nn attraction toward God aa its aonrco and centre— pursuit tha 
condiUon of happiness- but wa may not be absorbed in any pnrBnit 
—weariness resnlting from mere estemta aclivity- the aoni's need 
of Ood— the tecoirnltlon of Ood must be, not hept apart from ode 
bnsioesa, but interlaced with it— edifying extract llT>m "Hslo'a 
Devotions "—the New Teslament prajer-preeept enjoins nnintep- 
mitting prayei'— are wo making nn oflbrttokeep it?— the necessity 
ot oollocting tlie minrl BS often aswo tlni it lins wonilered from 



CHAPTER SVIIl. 



"Secause }w was of tkeeame craft, he abode witJi them, and wrougltt : 
for bi) Uieir oceupation tliey were lait-mniiers," — Aois iviii. 3. 

Eeasona "Bliy St. Paul would not atflJid upon Ida right to reoBlva 
support from his converta-iow he fonndiiis ndvantflge In labor- 
ing with hia hands foi his own suppoit— many Scriptural Instances 
of Divino calls bohig addroased to men in the way of thoir orclinary 



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bnBlrBss— necessity to holiQess of mi ontwnrd oeciipaHon— an occn- 
paUon mndQ resilj tor tbe majotUy of man— let it be settlea to tlia 
miiia that tbla littalneas Is the task set us by Qod'a Pravideaoe— 
let OS work nnflac the eye of our Heavenly Maater, and look np 
into Hia Ihco, Bnd ask Hia help— neTor regai'd work as a tlnderanco 
to, but as a ftirtliBnmco of, piety— think how often Hod has met 
men in tho way of their eaUtog— aim raUierat doing well wlmt you do, 
than at getttog through much— liirrj and ImpulsiTeness prejudicial 
—how a man may be slolbftil while he ia busy— tlie spirit In whieb 
the Angels work— how out leisure moinenta m»y ha emplojed in 
some graluil/ms work foe Christ— St. Fonl's work, thougli hirge 
and aniions, yet left Mm time far a mannfiicture, which waa a 
ffraiult0U3 toil— adTioBB for those wlio are under no necesalty of 
BorMng foe their bread— why reading is not for ancli persona n 
Buffloisnt occupation- many posts of Chriatian nsel^tlnesa and 
Chnroli work open lo anch people— let tbera choose and addict 
themaeLvBS to one proslnca of such work— the intellectual In- 
feriority of a handicraft more tlian compensated by ita apiritiml 
ndvimtogca, II 



CHAPTER XIS. 

SELir-SACKIFICB A TEST 01" THE LOTB OF GOD, 

"AndtvIimJIeiixts gone forth into lite wai/, Hure came ooe ruiu 
ning, atui hieded lo Bim, and askfd Mini, Good Master, inhai 
thall I do Oiat I may inherit eleiiial life? And Jeans said unto 
him. Why callesl il^oa S£e good? tkers is bojib good biit One, 
that ia, ffod. Thou latovieat ilie commKmdmenh, Do not commit 
adultery. Do koI hill, Do not steal, Do not hear false wiiness. 
Defraud not. Honor thy father and motlier. And he ansaered 
and said unto Bim, Maaler, aU these have I obaerned from my 
youth. Tlien Jesus beholding him Imed him, and said unlo hhn, 
One tMng ihmi laekest: go ihy v/ay, sell 'akatsocver H^u hast, 
and giee to the poor, and tfioi* aJialt have Ireastire in heaven : and 
come, take mj> the cross, andfoSovi Me." — Maek s. l'r-21. 

Tho love of God tke spring of holiness— our aplnesa fo deceive 
ourselves as to our possession of tMs lore— stdngent practical tests 
of tbe lova of God ftimishea by Scripture— tbe lesaona of the inter- 
view ot the ricii young man with Our Loi^d, frequently misappre- 
hended-^is deaire f o be made acqnninted wilS. some acilnoua atti^- 



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nieut of virtue, wMcli might aeciiFs for hSm eternal Ufe—how Our 
Lnril, Mving oitunined him on the flntiOB of the Second Tabia, alter, 
ward brings tlie First Table to benr, InapraeUcalferm, ou hiseon- 
scIoQco— why Oni- Lord doea not txplieiUj/ refer blm to the fflrst Ta- 
ble—a glow o! graUtude to Qod fbr prosperity aometlmes mistaken 
for the love of Qod-^Ulnre of the young man to stand lie test— what 
is meant by a trust In riches— true Ioyc delights In making aacrlBcOB 
to win the fiivor and approval of its object— the jonng man required 
to forsake all tilings and follow Christ, as the Apostles had done— 
and this, not as a work of merit, bnt that he may be free to embrace 

drop fiometliing of created good, in almsgiving and selMeulal, as a 
proof of our comparative Indiffereoce to tbe whole ; second, that we 
Gliould alisolntely renonncs all iniiil in created good, irhich cannot bo 
without actual mortliicatloa— what has to be mortEfled is our alfecUon 
to cr£atsd good in aU ife/omw— fftsting and almsgiving, the two spe- 
cially recognized forma of It— theli: principle— how the tasting of the 

lieart— mortiflcatlou to be regarded as the negative foiio of the love 
of God— and as only a means to an end, W 



CHAPTER XX. 



" 7/a man saj, Ilotii: God, and Jiatsih his brotltey, /« is a liar : for 
lie thai loaelh mil his brolltef viJiont lie hat/i seen, /loju can he love 
God mhara he bath not seen I " — 1 John iv. 20. 

AeecondpracUcaltratof tlielove of God proposed— any pieteiice 
to the love of Bod, In the ahaance of the love of onr neighbor, a deln- 
Bion— tho h)vo of our neighbor easier than the love of our Qa&, Inas- 
ranch as It is easier to walk by siglit than by feith— reason why the 
love of God might seem to bo the easier of the two— our neighbor ftdl 
of Imperfections, while the Idea of God is attcactive— hnt to be at- 
tracted towai-d the idea of God is not to love God— we must realize 

only be by fBith— I. How the love of out neighbor is wrapped up in 
the love of Qod— whatwe are refinfred to love m our neighbor Is 
God's image in him— every human sold has a fragment of tills image 
—a man's Ijue self to be diatinguiahed from Ills fallings— this dls- 
tincUou gonorally recogniaed, when it ia said that God loves the sin- 
ner, while He hntes the sin— n. The love of onr neighbor roust be 



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btOQgM to pratUcal toats— 1. What ore we dofng fcr Illin f — jeaJoney 
shown hj St. JoUn and St. James of profoasionB of benevolence— 
quick evaporation of 'bonesolent Beiitiroent, If It 1b not Immeaiatdy 
acted npon— 3. Do wa pmj for others ?— intercBSBion reeognized iis 
nn essential element of Prayer In the Lord's Pmyer— if we do not 
pray In a spirit of leva to othere, onr prayer la oat of harmony with 
God'a mind— ana suolia prayer cannot reach Qod's heart— saek to 
make yoni' prajei^ for others spacillc by coneidering their wants 



CHAPTER XXI. 



"Ifije lorn Me, keep My commandtnenls," — John liv. 1.1. 

Pathos of Our lord's last ([iaconrses with His disciples— the en- 
tirf absence of sentimentality from these aUconrsee— Christ BCknowl- 
odgea no love bnt such as takes t&e form of obedience—Hia relt^m- 
tion of this, hi the parting disconraes, and the public warning to the 
same effect In the Sermon on Oie Mount— pi'acUcel nee of the distinc- 
tion between sen^ment ami principle— for the detecUou of insincere 
pi-orossiona— for the consolation of tiiie ChriaHnns who do not find 
emotion enough in their reli^on— ordinary life furdiahea great scope 
(or the affections, compaiBtiTely little for the emotions— rare appear- 
ance of the emodons la modem diilized life— tha afi^cttons run atUI 
and deep, and only attract oliseryatlon when a crisis occurs— the 
same holds good in relii^ons life— the crises of reUglous life, bat not 
its normal course, distinguished by emofJou— the aat^ teats of our 
loving Christ are such a conlldenee in Elm, as leads its to iioar out 
onrbearla !>cKiraHim, andau enmeat endoHTOr to pleaae Him— this 
eadesToc inTolvos a aense of His living Personality- llluatratioa 
drawn ftom natural life and physiool emotion- the iova of Christ ao 
aETectlon of the will— disdnctlou between the spiritual and emotional 
part of our natme recognized by St. Paid— Sonth's description of the 
Joy of the reoson— the nama of love sometimes given to a ftncy or a 
faaUng— but tha love of Ohriat Is something deeper tlian thfs— wliy 
the £rst disciples probably needed thia warning even more than our- 
BBlves — Out Lord's sole condescension to the love of aentlment— oc- 
omlno Into the genuineness of your loye, and how ftr it is fonnded In 



Ho;-dt,CoOgk' 



CHAPTER XXII. 



" Th^rs was no room for ikem in the inn.'" — Ldke ii. 7. 

UaollilnoBS of inroBtigBting tha reaaona of the bnckwai-duess of 
laligioua people In, Iha puranlt of tioUnesa— tlie cause not In Oad, who 
neither Btinls Hie Gieat, nor In partial ia the distiiballon of it— we 
are eCralteued In ouTaelTeB— Imagea dmwn from Hatnre—Christ tsa 
flatl no room ia the heart, becaoae other sueaia exclnde Hira.— the 
crowded inn, o Juat emblem of the hoort— what la it whiEb occupies 
Ihc room wldch He neetls fot His graeioua operations ?— 1. 8elf-wi& 
—tba attempt to eiempt certain diatiicts of oar Ufe from GoQ's jmia- 
diotion-WBOt of a delicate senslbiUlr to God's inaplralions-how 
the will sets Itself In aoma one qnarter, and does not hang qiilte loose 
—how God iUnminates the conscience aa to His will In particnlai' 
Ciiaea— the gnidance of the eye— this guidance seldom eiperleneed 
ivhoiTj peopla are not disposed to follow It unresBfvedly— 3. Confi- 
dence in tke ereaiure for ftigjpJness— dlffloalty of aacertainlBg, wliile 
vie are in pOMOBBlon of earthly biessingB, how Sax onr affactlona are 
entangled with them— God thaivsfore remoree them occaaioually aa a 
trial how ftirwe can do wlOtout them— His marcy and coaalderata- 
■nets in Inflicting thia discipline— so longaa a single earthly blesaliiE 
is left, there ia a risk of ita being loo fondly dang to— the lesson of 
the history of Job— why the Scriptures ascribe to hini the grace of 
patieHCe— enjoyment of croaled good (aa distinct ftom confidence in 
it) quite permlBaible — etrong Scrlptnral repudiation of asceticism — 
we must leara the art of lasting blessings without being taken up 

to investigata the reaeon of our slow aflvflnco in ginco, . . . ii 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



"JSliasmaa a man ti^ed lo liJce passions as wen™." — Janks y. 37. 
" Of whom tke world VMt tiot viortliy.''' — Hed. si. 38. 

IT needed an Apostle to give us this assurance. If 
any saint ever seemed to rise above the infirmities 
of human nature, it was the Prophet Elijah. Ehjah 
was a sort of anchorite, or hermit, who dwelt apart 
from the haunts of men, except when some errand, on 
which God sent him, drew him for a time into their 
neighborhood. He lived, as a rule, not by firesides, 
but in wildernesses and caverns ; his costume was un- 
couth, his diet simple and austere. Then the power 
which he exerted over the elem.enta clothes him in 
our eyes with a supernatural character. He shut up 
the windows of the sky by hia prayers, and by his 
prayers reopened them. And as he could call down 
the gracious rain, so could he bid the vengeful fire fall 
from heaven, and consume those who set themselves 
against him. And at the dose of his career, as if to 
place a still greater gulf between him and ourselves, 
!iis lot was not the common lot of all men. " It is 
appointed unto men once to die ; " but Elijah did not 
die. He was carried up to heaven by a whirlwind, a 
chariot of fire and horses of fire appearing as his 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



3 That Holiness is AUmnaUe. [chap. 

escort. His was throughout a magnificent and super- 
human career. 

Yet what is given us of Elijah's history amply 
bears out the Apostle's assertion that lie " was a man. 
o£ like passions as we are." We read of his being 
weary of life, and requesting for himself tliat he 
might die ; of his flying, in a sudden access of terror, 
from the wrath of Jezebel, though he had bravely 
confronted Aiab; and of his magnifying himself in 
prayer as being the only remaining witness for God 
in Israel, when there were seven thousand men who 
had not bowed the knoe, nor given the kiss of homage, 
to the imag^e of BaaL 

But though the Apostle James instances only in 
Elias, the truth which he announces, like all truths of 
Holy Scripture, is one of broad and general import. 
We are apt to form mistaken notions of Grod's saints. 
We are apt to think of them as if they were beings 
of a different order from ourselves, raised above the 
level of human infirmitj-. And from this mistaken 
notion flows great practical mischief. Not to speak 
of the manifold evils of saint-worship, which may be 
supposed to have passed away at the Keformation 
(though the tendency to it is always alive in the 
human heart), a wrong estimate of saintliness dis- 
courages us for the pursuit of it, as seeming' to put it 
entirely out of our reach. 

I. It will be profitable to inquire, first, whence this 
wrong estimate comes. 

It comes chiefly, I suppose, of our looking at the 
saints from a distance — of our considering them as 
creatures of the past, not mixed up ■with the affairs and 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



I,] That Holinass is Attainable. IS 

troubles of life. Whatever wc look at from a distance 
is beautified by the perspective. It is so in bodily 
eight, A country which was dull, tame, or harsh, 
when it lay immediately around us, borrows soft and 
mellow tints from the atmosphere as we recede from 
it ; the blue distance conceals its plain features. It is 
BO with the mental retrospect, which we call memory. 
Memory has a notorious tri<i of dropping or smoothing 
over disagreeables. The days of our childhood, which 
had their rubs, and their tears, and their faults, lilce 
all other days, seem to us always beautiful and inno- 
cent in virtue of this trick of memory. The same law 
of the mind operates to throw round the saints a false 
and aa imaginary lustre. We imagine that no man is 
or can be a saint who is mix(\d up in the daily inter- 
course of society, who is fighting hand to hand with us 
in the battle of life. Why not ? What one sound 
reason can be assigned why there should not be nowa^- 
days men as zealous, as devoted, as simple-minded, aa 
the Apostles and saints of the primitive Church ? It 
might perhaps be imagined that Christianity, when it 
came as a fresh force into human nature, when it pre- 
sented itself with all the interest of a new revelation, 
wrought moral wonders which, since the mind of man 
has become familiar with its truths, it is powerless to 
work. But this is to suppose that Christianity depends 
for its succe^ on the ordinary constitution of the 
human mind, and to overlook the lact that it employs 
in its service supernatural forces and agencies. "lethe 
Lord's arm shortened that it cannot save ? " Are men's 
hearts, in the nineteenth century, beyond the reach of 
His grace ? Is the moral paralysis of the Church in 
these latter days such, that even the Spirit cannot put 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



i That Holiness is Attainable. [chap. 

life into tbe withered hand ? Has the blood of the 
Loiid Jeaus lost its cleansing and sanctifying power? 
Is it not rather true, as the Christian poet sings, that 
" Preah. na wlieii it first was shed 
Spviogs forth tho Sayiour'a Blood ? " 

Or was the promise of grace limited to the first be- 
lievers, and not rather expressly extended " to you 
and to yonr children, and to all that are afar off " 
("afar off" in every sense of the words, in religious 
position, in apace, in time), "even as many aa the 
Lord QUI God shall call ? " 

II. Let us see now how the Scriptures counteract 
this miataken notion of sanctity. It has been already 
pointed out how Elijah is exhibited to us as showing 
moral weakness in two great features of it — weariness 
of life, and want of patience. But the saints of the 
New Testament, in whom we naturally expect to find 
a higher standard, are also exhibited to us — we cannot 
doubt with a deep purpose — as exempt neither from 
infirmity nor error. I will not instance in such points 
as St Peter's fall, because this took place before the 
disciples had been endued with power fi'om on high by 
the descent of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost ; 
but I take the quarrel between St. Paul and St Bar- 
nabas, as recorded in the fifteenth chapter of the Acts, 
which led to a dissolution of the partnership between 
them. How very like it is to those differences among 
good men nowadays, which so often issue — so much 
to the Church's loss — ^in divided operations 1 On one 
side is the partiality of natural affection. John Mark, 
whom St. Barnabas has iixed upon as the companion 
of the Apostolic tour, was the sister's son of that 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



I.] TlKit Holiness is Attainable. 5 

Apostle, wlio was ready therefore to condone tis 
nephew's past misconducts On the other side, Paul, 
with his burning zeal, had been justly offended by 
the half-heartedness of John Mark, when he had ac- 
companied them on their previoi^ journey. Disliking, 
no doubt, the inconveniences and hardships to which 
their companionship subjected him, Mark had " depart- 
ed from them from Pamphylia, and went not with them 
to the work." St. Paul took strongly tiie view that 
this conduct was a disqualification for a second tjial 
of the young man. Had not the Lord Jesus Him- 
self said, "No man, having put his hand to the 
plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of 
God ? " Doubtless St Paul was not wholly and utter- 
ly in the right. He would have been cooler in the 
dispute that followed had he been so. Doubtless, he 
was for showing too little' indulgence to one who, 
though he had been overtaken in a fault, yet now, by 
his willingness to accompany them on their second 
voyage, showed himself sensible of it. In short, St^ 
Paul hardly acted in this case on his own inspired 
counsel to " restore such an one in the spirit of meek- 
ness." So the collision of natural affection in Bar- 
nabas with the somewhat unchaatened, untempered 
zeal of Paul produced a sharp contention — in the 
original it is "a paroxysm " — ^between them. Sharp 
words passed, and mutual recriminations, and the 
feelings of both parties were exasperated — alas ! so 
much so, that they found it impossible to work to- 
gether ; they must henceforth choose different spheres 
of duty. How ! Are these Apostles ? Are these 
two of God's most einiaent saints ? Are these two 
eminent pillars of the Church of Christ ? Yes, reader ; 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



6 That Soline&s is Attainable. [chap. 

Apostles, and saints, and pillars, not as our fancy por- 
trays tliem, nor as they are now, in the calm and deep 
repose of Paradise, but as they were in the struggles 
and colhsions of daily life — "men of like passions as 
we are"— not always subduing those passions, and 
only subduing them at all by that gra«e which is 
offered to us as ireely as to them. 

But let us now fasten our thoughts on anotherpoint 
in tlie history of the New Testament Saints, which 
often seems to be strangely overlooked. We are apt to 
form most erroneous notions of what the descent of the 
Holy Ghost did for the Disdples of Christ. We are 
apt to tliink that it endued them in an instant of time 
with fulness of knowledge, and fulness of sajictity — that 
it dispeUedfromtheirmindall prejudice and error, and 
raised the curtain at onc§ upon the full panorama of 
Divine Truth. But what are the facts of history ? The 
facts are that eight years after the descent of the Holy 
Spirit, it required, a vision, and a providential indica- 
tion, and withal a direct injunction of the Holy Ghost, 
to induce St. Peter to accept and act upon the truth, 
that the Gentiles were to be no more regarded as 
strangers and foreigners, but to become fellow-citizens 
with the saints and of the household of God. And 
though these circumstances must have impressed the 
truth of the Gentiles' fellow-hcirship inefiaceably upon 
his heart and mind, we find him afterward guilty of 
moral cowardice in hiding his convictions on the sub- 
ject. Though now of some standing in the Apostle- 
ship, and confirmed (one would think) in his views of 
Christian IVuth, he appears to have forgotten his 
Master's warnings against putting the light under a 
bushel, and not allowing it to shine before men. 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



I.] That IToliness is Attainable. 7 

" When Peter was come to Antioch," says St. Paul, 
" I withstood iiim to the face, beoatise he was to be 
blamed. For before that certain came from James, 
he did eat with the Gentiles : but when they were 
come, he withdrew, and separated himself, fearing 
l3iem which w^ere of the circumdsion. And the other 
Jews dissembled litewiso with him; insomuch that 
Barnabas also was carried away with their dissimula- 
tion." And who is this, who (if the Word of God be 
true) thus exhibited narrowness and moral cowai-dice 
on a critical occasion, and drejv othere away after him 
into compliance with bis mischievous example? This 
is the Eockman,' on whom the Lord said that He 
would build His Church, and to whom He solemnly 
intrusted the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven ; this 
is a saint specially dear to Christ, and specially hon- 
ored of Him ; a saint who was enabled to perform 
many mighty and wonderful works, and whose very 
shadow was healing, an emblem this of the wholesome 
spiritual influences which the holy life and conversa- 
tion of St, Peter diffused aiound him. Verily "Elias 
was a man subject to like passions as we are," 

The truth is {and it is a truth most apposite to the 
whole argument of the present work) that the Holy 
Spirit, as given to the Church, and to each member of 

' I oall him " Hockman," as the most suitable word I can 
coin to express the etymology of llie name which Our Lord gave 
him (IKrpot= n^pa-oc= Root, witli a maaealine termination). 
An able note on the interpretation of Matt. xvi. 13, 19, repudi- 
ft^ng both errors — that of the Papista, which regards St. Peter aa 
the roclt, hideptndenSy of his conffsdon, and that of the Pcotes- 
tants, which regards the confession (and not the Apostle) aa tbo 
rock, will be found in " Schaff 'b History of the Apostolic Church " 
(Edinburgh ; T. & T. Clark, 1864), vol. iL, pp. B, 6. 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



8 That Holiness is Attainable. [cuai', 

the Church, is not an illuinination once for all, or a 
confirmation once for all, bnt a germ of light and 
strength capable of indefinite development. It is 
potentially, Intt only potenMoMy, a revelation of all 
truth to the intellect, and a communication of all power 
to the wilL It is a growing and expansive force, not a 
force which exhausts itself in one impulse. In short, it 
is a seed, not a fuU-fonned flower ; and, like all seeds, 
ife growth is liable to checks and drawbacks. It is 
planted in the poor, barren soil of the human heart, 
which by nature engenders weeds only. It shoots up 
into the climate of a wicked world. And just aa, in 
the world of nature, plants are exposed to blight, which 
is said to be composed of hosts of minute insects, so in 
the moral world Grace is apt to be thwaited by the 
legions of fallen angels, whom the Scriptures speak of 
as swarming around us on every side, " principalitiea 
and powers, and the rulers of the darkness of this 
world," What wonder if the spiritual development 
of saints be often thrown bach, and if their best graces 
be sadly marred by infirmities ? 

III. We have been endeavoring to correct the popu- 
lar notion of s^nts as men exempt from our infirmities 
and altogether exalted above our sphere. But this no- 
tion has another tendency, besides that which has been 
already discussed. It leads not only to what we may 
call an overvaluation of these saints who have long 
since passed away, but to an undervaluation of those 
who may now be (if we had eyes to see them) fighting 
the battle of life by our side. And against tliis error 
also the Word of Gfod protests, teaching us, in another 
passage, that " the world is not worthy " of God's saints. 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



1.] That Holiness is Attainable. 9 

Every man and woman, who Kycs by Christian prin- 
ciple (that is, by faith), who sustains the life of his 
immortal spirit by prayer, aad sacraments, and tlie 
Word of Gtod, and resists evil watchfully and stead, 
fastly, IS a saint. He may have his infirmities, his 
backslidings, his periods of lukewarmness, his fallings 
of temper, his moral cowardice ; so had the Scriptural 
saints. And our close commerce with him in life, 
forcing upon ub, as it does, his weaknesses and pre- 
judices, while his communion with God, transacted 
in the depths of his own spirit, is of course screened 
from us, liinders, for the present, our fuDy appreciating 
him. We see very clearly that he is "a man subject 
to like passions as we are ; " but we fb.il to see that he 
is Elijah. Perchance we shall see this too by-and-by, 
when, he ia taken from us. Sanctity in our friends and 
neighbors is like a star. We take no notice of the 
star while the sun is pouring hie rays over the firma- 
ment, and the full stir of life is around us. But let 
the night draw her curtain over the slsy ; and the star 
in all its beauty steals out to view. So while our 
friends are mixed up with us in the hurry and commerce 
of life, we seem unable to disentangle from their infirm- 
ities the saintliness which is in them. But they die ; 
and something comes to light about their inward life 
which hitherto had escaped every eye but God's, and 
we begin to discover that the commonest things they 
did were governed by Christian principle, and referred 
to God in prayer, and perhaps that we have been for 
years walking side by side with angels unawares. 
Death has now thrown his pall over them ; they are no 
hunger in the hubbub of life or the strife of tongues ; 
and the siar of their sanctity begins to twinkle bright- 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



10 That Holiness is AUainaUe. [coap, 

ly to our eyes. Oh I lest remorse for having appred- 
ated God's samts so little should strike a chill to our 
hearts, -when they are taken from us, let us now be on 
the watch for any tokens of good in one another, and 
hail such tokens with affectionate reverence. Let not 
infirmities, however patent, blind our eyes to the grace 
which there may be in a brother. Let us hope for 
good in him, promptly believe in it, pyfuliy welcome 
it. And let us not fail to bless God for every exajnple 
of faith and love given by His people, whether still in 
a state of warfare, or departed to their rest, " beseech- 
ing Him to give us grace so to follow their good ex- 
amples, that with them we may be partakers of His 
heavenly kingdom." 

To revert again, in conclusion, to the great lesson 
of this Chapter. The greatest saints who ever lived, 
whether under the Old or New Dispensations, are on 
a level which is quite within our reach. The same 
forces of the spiritual world which were at their com- 
mand, and the exertion of which made them such 
spiritual heroes, are open to us also. If we had the 
same faith, the same hope, the same love which they 
exhibited, we could achieve marvels as great as those 
which they achieved — not indeed in marvels which 
change IJie outward face of Nature, but those higher 
marvels, whose field is the heart and soul of man. A 
word of prayer in our mouths would be as potent to 
call down the gracious dews and the melting fires of 
God's Spirit, as it was in Elijah's mouth to call down 
literal rain and fire, if we could only speak the word 
with that full assurance of faith wherewith he said it. 
Let us no more say querulously, as an excuse to our 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



I.] That Holiness is Attainable. 11 

consciences for not prosecuting the high end to which 
we aie called, " God has put the great standards of 
holiness out of my reach," It is not so. As if with 
the design of meeting such an objection, He exhibits 
to ns in His Word the occasional failures and feeble- 
ness of His most illustrious servants, and gives us a 
glimpse of them, not only in the triumphs of Grace, 
but in the infirmities of Nature. Seen in plain truth, 
and not through the distorting medium of distance, 
they were "men of hke passions with ourselves," 
though under the empire of principles which brought 
God into immediate relation with them, and thuslifted 
them above self and the world. Why should we not 
follow them, even as they followed God and Christ ? 
Plainly the reason is not to be sought in any disad- 
vantages under which we labor, in comparison of them. 
It is not that holiness was originally more congenial 
to their nature than to ours. It is not that privileges 
accorded to them are denied to us. It can be nothing 
but that laggardncaa of will, that indifference to high 
moral alms, that want of spiritual energy, that cheer- 
ful acquiescence in the popular standard of rehgion, 
which has caused many a soul, when " weighed in the 
balances," to be " found wanting," to be counted un- 
worthy of the calling and the Kingdom of God. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



WTiat have we to begin iipon 9 [ci 



CHAPTER n. 

WHAT HAVE WE TO BEGIN UPON? 

" And Jib wjomW fain have fUed Ms b^ viUh ffie haihi iJuit Ihe 

ewine did eat ; and no man gaste ■atdo him, 
" And wiAen. ha earns 1o Immdf, Ita said, Soto many hired sernanls 

0/ myfaiher's have bread enongk and to spare, nni? I ^srishwiih 

hunger 1 
"ItmU arist amdgo M my father" — Ldke xt. 16-18. 

T HU^ scope of our observations in the last Chapter 
was to show that saintliness is not something 
unattainable, or beyond our reach, inasmuch as the 
most eminent saints, both of the Old and New Testa- 
ments, are clearly proved to have been " men of like 
passions as we are," The next question will be, How 
are we to proceed in attaining it ? and, first, How are 
we to begin? The answer to this first question is 
specially important. Fop the principles wMch must 
guide us in the prosecution of this great work are the 
very same which must guide us at its commencement. 
So that the beginning ia not a beginning merely, but 
a beginning which has a development wrapped up in 
it ; it ia a seed which has only to burst and shoot up, 
in oi'der to become a blade, and then consecutively an 
ear, and the full com in the ear, " As ye have there- 
fore received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walli ye in 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



II.] What Mve we to begin upon ? I'i 

Him," says the Apostle to the Colossians, showing 
clearly that Christian progress proceeds in. the very 
same method as the commencement of Christian life. 
And therefore in this work, more, perhaps, than in any 
other, it is true (and the thought is most encouraging 
to those who are disposed to begin), that " Dimidium, 
facti qui ccepit habet," "ho who has begun has ad- 
vanced half-way toward the end." 

Upon what are we to begin, then, if we desire to 
follow after Holiness ? I answer, upon the grace of 
our Baptism ; this is the grand starting-point o£ all 
Christian effort. And the special blessing of Infant 
Baptism is this, that God in it "prevents" us (in the 
old sense of the word "prevents"), anticipates us 
with His GrarCe, anticipates consciousness, anticipates 
temptation, anticipates sin, so that, when the powers 
of evil throw up tlieir approaches to the soul, they 
find the Holy Spirit ia possession of the fortress be- 
fore them. And thus, before one who is baptized in 
infancy can be soiled by evil, he is tinctured with 
good. 

In order to the development of this thought, it will 
be necessary to say something of the relationship 
which is contracted by Baptism, and nest of the grace 
which is bestowed in it. 

I, First, the relationship contracted by Baptism, 
*' Baptism, wherein I was made a child of God." There 
is a strange confuaon of thought on the subject of this 
relationship, a confusion which has the mischievous 
result of dividing good men, who, were it not for this, 
would all " speak the same thing," By Baptism a 
relationship with Grod is cpntracted, the baptized pei> 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



14 WAat hate w tc b /ii ijoi [chap 

son being j,dmitted into His family It is ttnng-e 
tliat peisons cannot &ee that a relationship stands 
cleai alt jgether of the moral oondu t of the person 
holding it and cannot be in tny waj affected or 
shaken b\ tbtfc moral conduct The prodigal son in 
the Paiible wis i son still all his pioflia;ate and un 
gntetul conduct notwithstanding His leaving tbu 
home of hio childhood hi»( taking up his abode m a 
tir country his squandering his fortune his connec- 
tioa with vile outlandish women, his abject poveity, 
his ultimate dep,iadition to the office ot swineheid, 
ill these things did not alter his Imeas^ nor diam his 
father's bluod out of bio ^ ems He said, in 1 he 1 It, 
that he was not worthy to be called a son ; but in the 
same breath he called his father "Father," showing 
that the relationship was not annihilated, however 
unworthy of it he had proved. It is so with God's 
children, who are adopted into Hi a family by Bap- 
tism, Nothing wbicb occurs in after-life can raze the 
seal off the bond of their Baptism, However they 
may dishonor and cast a stain upon their divine line- 
age, it stUI exists. And hence it was that Luther 
called upon sinners, as the first effort in tho direction 
of Repentance, to go back to their Baptism, and to 
stand upon that before God. He felt that the bap- 
tismal relationship must be for a christened man the 
very ground and foundation of all his subsequent deal- 
ings with God. 

There are, it ia true, passages of Holy Scripture 
(let us not blink one of them) which seem expressly 
to connect Divine Sonship with abstinence from sin 
and correspondence to grace, and which at first sight 
forbid us to predicate that sonship where these fear 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



II.] What have we to "begin up/ya? 15 

tures of character do not exist. The strongest pas- 
sages of this sort I can think of are, "As many as 
are led hj the Spirit of God, they are the sons of 
God;" and, "Whosoever is bom of God doth not 
commit sin ; for His seed remaineth in him, and he 
caanot sin, because he is born, of God," But these 
and the like words are capaUe of an easy explana- 
tion, which renders them consistent not only with the 
doctrine of baptismal Eegeneration, but also with the 
analogy of natural sonship. Might not a father say 
of a very vile son, who had brought a stain upon the 
honor of his family, " He is no son of mine ; I can 
trace in him nothing of my character and disposi- 
lion ; I disown him altogether, and recognize only 
those of my children who maintain the credit of vny 
name?" In saying this, no one would understand 
him to deny the natural relationship of the bad son 
to him, but only to repudiate in the strongest terms 
he could find any moral affinity. In God's family 
too there is a sonship of moral affinity, as well as a 
far wider sonship of Sacramental relation, and of 
course it is only thoso who exhibit the sonship of 
mora! affinity who wiU be recognised as sons at the 
Great Day; all else will be repudiated and solemnly 
disowned by our Heavenly Father. 

n. Having thus explained the baptismal relation- 
ship, we will now point out the grace which it carries 
along with it, and which may be defined as the first 
force — the earliest motive-power — of the Christian 
life. Did I say I would point it out ? But it lies 
under our hands, though, like other things which lie 
imder our hands, we are apt to miss it, because we 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



16 W/i"l fi'foe U'e to hr/iu vpon? [ruAi-. 

search for it too fer afield. The shape whiuh the 
baptismal grace takes in all men m general iB good 
desires. You have tiiese good desires attributed to 
grace, and to " special grace " in the Easter Collect : 
— "As, by Thy special grace preventing us, Thou 
dost put into our mmds good desires,^' 0\a esteem 
for devout and religious people, tie wisb to be good 
and to lead a devout and religious life, the wish to 
amend and shake off bad habits, and conquer faults 
of character-— these at the lower end of the scale ; 
and at the higher, the re&tle&saess and emptiness 
engendered in the heart by a day without prayer, 
the calm which earnest prayer is felt to induce, and 
the desire after prayer which results from these ex- 
periences ; the longing, too, after Holy Communion 
combined, as it often is, with a fear of approaching 
the ordinance uuworthily^ — ^thufee are some of the im- 
pulses, more or less fluctuating, more or less allowed 
to color the life, more or less strong, according to tho 
occasions which call them forth and the chtuBcters of 
the persons harboring them, whidi spring up continu- 
ally in the heart of lie baptized, and which represent 
the action of the Holy Spirit upon the soul, in virtue 
of Baptism.^ TJiey are itot ilie fruit which &od 

' It will no doubt be said that persons merely edaeated in 
Christian Truth, and submitted freelj to the influenoM of Chris- 
tiim eivjlizalion — children, for instance, of a. Baptist or a Quaker 
—would probably have all the sentiments here described, eren 
wilbout the administratiou of the Sacrament of Baptism. No 
doabt Christian edneatioo, wMcli Our Lord ocdtuned in dote and 
mtal amnedi'm wilh the Sacramcnl of BapHsm ("baptininff tliem in 
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; 
leaching them tjj observe all things whatsoeror I haro commanded 
you," Matt, xsviii. 19, 20), has of itself a great effect in instilling 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



n,] WAat have we to begin upon? 17 

laUl require in its season from those who have been 
ptanied in Sts vineyard ,• but they are the blossom 
on the fruit-tree, an efflorescence, -which shows the 
tree's vitality, and gives hope that, with proper cul- 
ture, it ■will beat fruit hereafter. 

But in those who have fallen into wilful and delib- 
erate sin, and, it may be, have long' persisted in that evil 
course, the grace of Baptism, unless, indeed, it has be- 
come altogether extinct, operates in another manner. 
The parable of the Prodigal Son beautifully illustrates 
this working o£ the grace in question. The son had 
tried to live on unsatisfying food, and had found by 
ejtperience that it could not fill or nourish him. The 
craving of natural appetite brought him to himself, and 
it was then that he began to bethink him of the abun- 
dant diet provided even for menials in his father's 
house: "How many hired servants of my father's 
have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with 
hunger ! " It is very observable that his earliest in- 
stigation to return arises from nothing nobler than a 
sense that he was famishing. It is not, in the first 
instance, love for his father ; it is not a touching mem- 
ory of earlier and purer days sweeping across his 
heart, which moves him to retrace his steps ; but 
merely the gnawing of hunger. Oh, great and gra- 

tliese "good deaices." But tho fact that God ia good and gra- 
cious, even to those who haye never formally been brought iato 
the bond of Hla Covenant, and is pleased someWmea to attfich 
grace to that which is only half a Sncrnmant, cannot diBprove the 
normal conneetion between Baptism and tlioae drawings of the 
heart which aro here said to be its effects. The warinih of inou- 
balJon ia the usual and regular means of quickemng the gerni of 
life in an egg: that chickens maybe hatched by artUidal warmth 
docs not really make againat thia truth. 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



IS WhoA have we to begin iipon? [chap. 

cioTis encouragement to a sinner who has wandered 
iar from God, and seems quite to have estranged 
himself from his heavenly home ! The mere dissatis- 
faction with the creature, arising £com making trial 
of it and finding it to fail, the mere void which ia 
created in the heart bj constant disappointment, when 
all worldly sources of happiness have been proved 
one after another, and turned out broken cisterns 
which can hold no water — even this motive, inter- 
ested and selfish as it is, is accepted, if it lead to an 
efiective penitence, or rather to a hearty effort in that 
direction. And why ? Because this intense dissatis- 
faction of the soul with the creature, this refusal to 
acquiesce in any thing which does not fully content 
the heart, is instigated by the Holy Spirit, is an im- 
pulse of baptismal grace, still struggling with the re- 
luctant wili It may be grace in its earliest stage, 
but grace it is, inasmuch as it leads the heart of man 
to realize a great truth which it is naturally averse to 
accept, — the truth of the creature's emptiness. And 
God cannot turn His back on His own grace, when 
He sees one of His children led by it, and yielding to 
its impulse. 

I said it was not primarily love for his father, nor 
memory of his home, which instigated the prodigal's 
return. But we cannot exclude these feelings from a 
share in determining his conduct. Scarcely ever do 
men, and least of all penitents, act from pure and un- 
mixed motives. What sentiment, then, do wc find 
kneaded up with that emptiness and sense o£ want 
which appears to have been his primary motive ? The 
sentiment finds an utterance in that word " Father." 
He had been very hard for a long time as regarded 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



n.] What have we to iegin upon? 19 

tome tics ; but the old aiFcction was not quite dead, it 
still smouldered under the cinders of youthful passions, 
which now had biimed themselves out and formed a 
charred crust over his heart. And now it reasserted 
itself very significantly ; " I will arise," says he, " and 
go to my father." 1 believe that when God is truly 
and evangelically set forth as the Father of the human 
spirit, really related to it by a bond of which earthly 
fatherhood is only a poor, thin, unsubstantial shadow, 
there is hardly any soul so lost in sin that it will not 
make a response, and cry out of the depths of its ruin, 
" Verily, Thou art my Father." St. PhUip said a much 
profounder thing than ho meant, when he made that 
request to his Master, " Lord, show us the Father, and 
it suffii eth us." That is just the utterance of the 
Ijuman soul under the earlier promptings of grace, 
when it wakes up to the experience that nothing 
earthly does sufiice, and yet feels that there must be 
somewhere something which corresponds to its bound- 
less cravings after good. Hearing in the Gfospel of a 
Father who is all Wisdom and all Love, as well as 
boundless in power, the soul recognizes the manifesta- 
tion of this Father as its one true want^ " Show me 
the Father," it cries, "and it sufSceth me." I borrow 
from an eminent devotional writer a qiiaint but beau- 
tiful illustration of this truth. He says that there are 
birds which hatch the eggs of other birds of the same 
species, and rear a brood which is not their own ; but 
that when a bird thus reared happens to hear the cry 
of its own real mother, by a marvellous operation of 
instinct it Sies toward her, and takes its place under 
her wings. " Even so^" he says, " our heart, though 
reared and nourished under the wings of Nature;, 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



30 What hav. we to bet/m upon? [citAP. 

amidst the material aad transitory objeota of the 
earth, yet no sooner hears a true representation of 
the Heavenly Father, than it feels drawn toward 
Him by a spiritual instinct, the operation of which 
sho^vB that it was made for God originally, and that 
in God only can it find rest." 

My dear readers, ia there any one of you, however 
hard and indifferent to true religion he may at present 
seem to be, ■who does not feel an interest in these ob- 
servations? Is there any one of you, however world- 
ly and careless, nay, bad and vicious, he may be, whose 
stagnant heart is not from time to time stirred by an 
earnest wish that he were better ? Well, even that 
wish is a pure breath from heaven, wafted to you (as 
it were) across the waters of your Baptism. Is there 
any one, however simk into spiritual insensibility, who 
does not feel somewhat attracted by the testimony of 
a HeaTenly Father, and in whose heart there does not 
spring up, on such a testimony being made, an irre- 
pressible desire to know something of this Father ? 
Is there any one, however happy his lot, whose lot al- 
together contents him, so that he can say, " I have 
enough ? " llien, if these and the like aspirations 'rom 
time to time find place in your hearts, why do you not 
follow in the direction in ■which they lead ? Why do 
you not cast off sin, or make such a i-esolute effort to 
cast it off, and take such a stride in that direction as 
God may meet half-way ? Remember, that the peni- 
tent son had not completed his return — -he was yet " a 
great ■way off" from his home— had only his face set 
and his steps bent homeward, when " his fiither saw 
him, and bad compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, 
and kissed him." If the thought of Crod is bo at- 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



n.] What have, we to hegin -ixpon? 31 

tractive, why not suffer yourseK to bo drawn by it ? 
Why not seek Gtod in prayer, through the name of His 
Son? Is He so OYerabundantly "loving unto every 
man," and will He be able to restrain His boivels of 
compassion, if He sees a soul struggling toward Him 
as best it may ? Remember, at all events, that you are 
responsible for the use you make of the good instiga- 
tions which from time to time visit your heart. They 
are given you for a purpose, to begin the spiritual hfe 
upon, to be the starting-point of holy effort and prayer. 
You are not the better man for having them, for they 
come of free grace, not [of nature ; but you are the 
better for surrendering yourself to them, and following 
their lead. I say following their lead ; for what the 
Holy Spirit does is to lead — and to move, in order that 
He may lead. Do not imagine that He does more. 
Do not imagine that he drives or compels. To do so 
would be to destroy the moral nature of the creature, 
instead of renewing it. The Holy Spirit extends His 
hand to us, entices, allures, invites, remonstrates, but 
never forces. Let us place our hand in His, and make 
ourselves over to His guidance. The way may be oc- 
casionally thorny and rough, but it ends in such a 
vision of God's perfections as will fully content the 
Boul; yea, it ends in that laiowledge of Him, " where- 
in standeth our eternal life." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Tlie, First Pnnciple of Holiness, [ci 



CHAPTER ni." 



" He entered into the Sffnagoffae and iaught: andtkere was a man 

wRose rigid hand was viitTtered. And looking round 

oioirf iipon iheia oil. He said «nto the man, SlrekJi forlJi thT) 
hand, and he did so : and his Iiand luas restored whole as the 
olJier," — Ldke yi. 6, 10. 

IT is probable that many persons are deterred from 
beginning a religious course in right estmest by a 
feeling that the very beginning is out of their own 
reach. Faith, they kno^r^, is the great principle of the 
spiritual life ; the just man lives by his faith. But 
then feith is declared to be the gift of God, not the 
product of human efforts And therefore their notionia, 
that &ith drops upon people from Heaven quite arbi- 
trarily, according to no known laws, and that there is 
DO regular and prescribed method for the attainment 
of it. Though surely the mere consideration of God's 
infinite goodness might teach these people that He 
cannot possibly lay upon us a command -which He 

1 The substance of this Chapter appeared many years ago in 
a volume of Pavoohial Sermons, preached by mo in my (then) 
Churcli of Dolywell, in Oxford. But I hare rewritten the whole' 
argument for tlie purpose of the present work. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



iil] and how to attain it. 33 

■will not give us power to obey, and that, therefore, 
since He bida us believe the Gospel, or (in other -words) 
exercise faith in Christ, it mnst be within our power, 
aided by His gracious Spirit, to do so. 

I believe we shall nowhere better see the true rela- 
tion between God's gift of faith, and lie part which 
human effort has to play in the attainment of it, than 
in the narrative of the cure wrought by Our Lord upon 
a man that had a withered hand, 

A withered hand ; of what spiritual defect ia this 
bodily defect a type or figure ? The hand is the organ 
of touch. He, therefore, whose hand is withered, has 
lost the sense of touch in that which is the chief organ 
of the sense. Now consider what impressions we gain 
from the sense of touch. It is touch which, more than 
any other sense, convinces us of the reality of matter. 
What you see might be merely a phantom, an optical 
illusion, a picture painted on the retina of the eye, and 
nothing more ; but if you go up to the thing you see, 
and touch it, and handle it, you become assured of its 
existence, you know that it is substantial. Now what 
ia faith ? It may be defined as the faculty by which 
we realize unseen things — such as the Being and 
Presence of God, the work whicli Our Lord did for us, 
the future judgment, the future recompense of the 
righteous, and the lite imseen things. 

I say the feoulty (not by which we conceive, but) 
by which we realize these things, feel them to have a 
body and a substance. To imagine the truths of 
Eeligion is not to behove them. We may iroia time 
to time imagine God as He is in Heaven, surrounded 
by myriads of glorious angels — we may imagine Christ 
looking down upon us from God's right hand, inter- 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



24 TU First Principle of Holiness, [ouap. 

ceding for us, calling its to aceoiortt at the last day, and 
awarding to us our final doom ; but the mere picturing 
these things to ourselves is not the same thing as be- 
lieving them ; the believing them is the having such a 
conviction of their reality, as to live under their in- 
fluence, and to be in some measure at least governed 
by them. In short, to imagine the truths of religion 
is like surveying things by the eye ; to helieve in the 
truths of religion is like grasping the same things 
with the hand, and thus proving them to have sub- 
stance and consistency, I need say no more to show 
that a withered hand, being a hand without the sense 
of touch, is a very just and suitable emblem of the 
soul of the natural man, which has lost the power o£ 
faith. For faith is nothing more nor less than the 
faeidty ofapiritual touch. 

The patient, however, on whose story we are found- 
ing these remadis, had not lost the sense of touch 
altogether. It was only his right hand which was 
withered ; he could handle things with his left. And 
this may usefully remind us of what has often been 
pointed out, that man by nature is not a stranger to 
faith or to its power — ^that he does exercise it, though 
within a very limited horizon. Yes, surely. Every 
victory which man has achieved over Nature has been 
achieved in the power of faith. The husbandman 
ploughs and sows in lull persuasion of a harvest — 
that persuasion is faith. The man in full health and 
full work lays by a part of his earnings against a 
time when he shal! be able to work no longer : that act 
of saving is an act of faith ; for why does he save but 
that he believes a time of decrepitude and infirmity 
will surely come to him, though at present tbei-e are no 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



III.] and how to attain it. 25 

symptoms of it ? All the many precautions, which we 
take against evil contingencies — precautions which 
follow everywhere ia tiie train of civilization — are all 
instances of faith, and of its power in man's natural 
life. For the future, against which these precautions 
are taken, is unseen, and faith is the only faculty which 
grasps the unseen, which brings it home tb us, and 
gives it a living power. The strange and melancholy 
thing is, tliat our faith Las no power of grasping such 
things as lie beyond the horizon of time and expe- 
lience. Ask it to realize judgment to come, or a 
future state of existence, or the Presence of Gtod, or 
the intercession of Christ, or any of the unseen things 
of which with no uncertain voice the Word of God 
assures us, — and it drops paralyzed by our sides : the 
hand — ^the right or better haad, that which might 
enable us, if it retained the sense of touch, to realize 
things nobler than any which enter into human ex- 
perience — is withered. 

Now let us learn from the narrative the method of 
restoration. It is plain, in the first place, tiiat the 
restorative power was in Christ, and dependent abso- 
lutely and entirely upon His will. When Our Lord 
willed it— neither sooner nor later — the healing virtue 
with which His Sacred Person was chained flew into 
the withered hand, and made it in an instant of time 
whole as the other. The patient's will, the patient's 
eiTort, could have done nothing whatever for him, in- 
dependently of Christ No exercise, prescribed to him 
by human skill, could have done aught to help him, 
bad not the, gracious Source of all health, natural and 
spiritual, been present as a fountain from which he 
might draw. I say, a fountain from which he might 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



36 The Mrsl Pi-inciph of Holiness, [ouap. 

draw ; for j'ou observe, in tlie second place, that, being 
in the presence of the fountain, Tie was required to 
draw. Our Lord did not by a, mere act of Bjs own 
■will restore his hand — He bade tlie man to do some- 
thing. And what Ho bade him to do sounded impos- 
sible in the present circumstances of the patient. He 
told him to stretch forth his hand, — a hand which was 
probably cramped together and curved by tho com- 
plaint, — a hand in which there was no muscular power, 
and over which the brain had no control. And yet 
there was a meaning in the command, and a meaning 
which the patient understood. The meaning was that 
he should try to act as if the withered hand had been 
sound, — try to undinch those fast^set fingers, to un- 
roll that long-dosed palm. Very probably the thought 
flashed like lightning across the poor creature's mind : 
" He has healed hundreds who simply did as He bade 
them. He bids me to do this ; and therefore I must 
be equal to doing this, or at least He wiU malce me 
equal." " And he stretched it forth," — he made tho 
effort which he had been bidden to make, — his wiU 
roused itself, — his brain issued once more the order 
which hitherto, aa regarded that member, had produced 
no effect ; and he finds with delight that the order is 
now obeyed, the hand unrolls itself, stretches itself 
toward the Saviour, casts off its old incapadty, is re- 
stored whole as the other. 

One more observation we will draw from the nar- 
rative, before we part company with it A hand 
stretched forth toward Christ is the emblem of prayer. 
Now as faith is the one great principle of the Spiritual 
Life, so ia prayer its one great exercise. And though 
prayer is a very simple thing, and it is perfectly easy 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



ni.] and how to attain it. 27 

to grasp the idea of going to God for ivliat we want, 
and telling out before Him the desires of our hearts ; 
all experience teaches that prayer — at all events, 
stated and continuous prayer — is very difficult to prac- 
tise. Those who are not much in the habit of collect- 
ing their thoughts, and are brought for the first time 
to see the necessity of real earnest prayer proceeding 
from the heart's core, find that the distractions which 
beset every attempt so to pray are "Legion;" the 
mind is always flying ofi^ at a tiingent to the concerns 
or amusements of this life ; it seems to be the sport 
of every trifling impulse ; teased and rebuffed, it finds 
its half-hour of devotion turned into a half-hour of 
bitter mortification. And even the best Christians, 
and those who have made some progress in the, dis- 
cipline of the mind, ever and anon find their prayers a 
grievous disappointment ; they had looked to find a 
comfort and a sedative in prayer, looked that it might 
lift them a little out of the atmosphere of this world; 
but they are crossed, and checked, and thwarted at 
every turn, being made in this way practically to feel 
their dependence upon Giod for the Spirit of grace and 
supplications. In this condition of mind it is natural 
to turn away from the faldstool in disgust, and post- 
pone devotion to a more convenient season. We are 
apt to say peevishly, " I cannot pray just now ; I will 
put it off till oircnmstances are more favorable, till the 
mind is less anxious and less volatile, til! the aoimal 
spirits flow more readily." Ahl this is not the true 
policy. The true policy is to persist in spite of the 
annoyances and the rebuffs. The true poli<5' in spirit- 
ual things always is to endeavor, and to go on endeav- 
oring, after that which we feel quite unequal to do. 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



28 The First JPritidple of Hblhiess, [ceAr. 

The motto of this policy is, " Stretch forth thy hand;" 
if the needful help does not seem to come immediately, 
it \rill come as soon as God sees that your faith and 
patience are sufficiently approved. Where you cannot 
pray as you wish, pray at all events as you can ; do 
not allow yourself to be teased away from your post 
of duty ; make a more vigorous endeavor. Great was 
the reward which people of old carried away, who, 
like the Syrophcenician woman, or the bearers of the 
paraljrtic patient, hung on to the Lord in spite of dis- 
couragement, and would take no denial. Eemember 
that no principle is shown by praying when the course 
of prayer runs smooth, when tlie mind is in order and 
composed, and the exercise acts as a sedative to the 
soul. To g-lide into harbor in a smooth sea, and with 
wind and tide both favoring, is no trial of a vessel at 
all. But to persist in making for the harbor with an 
adverse wind and tide, courageously to tack and tack 
again in hopes of maldng a little headway, and com- 
ing a little nearer to the mark, and so to wait on, 
striving against all odds, tUl wind and tide come round 
— this tries both the ribs of the ship and the patience 
of the mariners. And God must surely find tliat 
prayer most acceptable, in which Ha sees the greatest 
trial of principle. 

We have now arrived at the point at ■which we 
can see distinctly how a beginning of the Christian 
Hte may be made by any one who is willing to make 
it. In our last chapter we spoke of the grace which 
accompajiies tiie baptismal relationship, and which 
exhibits itself in " good desires," those releatings as 
to a sinful or a thoughtless and careless career, those 
dissatisfactions with the world and with self, those atr 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



iil] and how to attain it, 39 

tractions of the mmd toward Giod, wlieii scriptTiraUy ex- 
hibited as the Father of the human spirit, which spring 
i!p ever and anon in men's hearts — to be summarily 
suppressed by some, to be cherished and brought to 
good effect by others. To surrender one's self in eai^ 
nest to these good desires, to follow whither they 
lead, is the first thing to be done ; and God will not 
lead us forward, until we have really mastered the 
first step. Wo shall not have followed far in the di- 
rection of these impulses, before it will begin to dawn 
upon us that what we really need in order to victory 
over sin aJid the world is a true faith, a realizing 
grasp of unseen things, such a grasp as gives a body 
and a substance to the truths respecting Heaven and 
Hell, God, and Christ, and the Devil, taking them out 
of the category of chimeras (or notions) and placing 
them in that of realities. Well, such a faith is to be 
had. It may be derived from Christ into our souls, 
as it has been derived into thousands of souls before 
OUTS. But think not that the Lord gives so priceless a 
blessing to those who do not show themselves worthy 
of it. Think not that He gives it to listless or languid 
seekers. Even human knowledge cannot be won 
without strenuous efibrt. Pearls cannot bo picked 
up without the risk and trouble of diving for them. 
Ask of God the restoration of the lost sense of spirit- 
ual touch. If you are troubled and rebuffed by dis- 
tractions in your prayer, pray on ; " stretch forth thy 
hand " at the gate of Mercy, till something is put into 
it from above. And strive too; or how else shall you 
yourself be assured of the sincerity of your prayer ? 
Act up to present Hght Bouse yourself to shake off 
every thing in your present course, which an enlight- 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



Sn Tht. First Prmrqih of Holiness, etc. [chap. 

ened conscience condemns. Set about amending faults 
of character and conduct. Act as faith would lead 
you to act, e^en when, youi' faith is feeble, or rather 
seems to you to be none. And the faithful endeavor 
shall assuredly in God's good time be crowned with 
success. The virtue tliat is in Christ shall pass into 
the withered hand ; and then the eternal things, that 
are not seen, shall have for thee the same reality, and 
exert upon thee the same influence, as the things that 
are scon and temporal. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



IT.] Point o/Deparfwe in the Mighi Course. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE POINT as DEPABTURE IN THE BIGHT OOUKSE. 

"For llie inmsihU things of Sim from th$ creation of (he world are 
dearly teen, beir^ UBderslood bg llie (Siniw thai ai-e mmfc, even 
Jiii eternal pow^ and Godhead; so thai they are vnthont eixuse: 
hfea-iue that, «iA«n ikei/ J»i«ui Gad, the;/ glorified Him aol as 
Cfod, neUher taere Suinkfa!; !nd beeame vain in their imaffina- 
^003, and their foolish heart was dar&ened. Professing them- 
jefoes to be Miss, ilteif became fools, and twanged the im(^e of the 
uncorrv^ptible Godinio an image made like to corruptible man, and 
to birds, and four-fooled beaala, and creeping iltinga. Wherefore 
God alao gave them vjt to aneleanness IhrOTigh tAe lusts of tlieir 
oiini hearls, io dishonor tluir objii bodies beliaeen tJiemselves," — 
Ron. i. 20-24. 

THE passage wliich stands at tlie head of this chap- 
ter is a profound piece of Christian philosophy. 
And from the study of it vre may gain a great insight 
into the secret and source of Holiness, in the pursuit 
of which we are engaged. It teaches us that large 
and exalted conceptions of God are the spring of all 

The Apostle is speaking of the deep degradation 
into which man has fallen by his vices — ^vices, many 
of them, which it is a shame to speak of-— vices against 
which Nature herself protests, and to which the lower 
animals are strangers. In the passage quoted above 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



3" Thp Pnnt f Biaiu [^iiap 

he gives an a''couut of this degndation — tiacci it up 
to its true source Now ob^eire tow difteient is the 
Apostle's necount of min's degradatim from that 
whith a more moralist give"- The moralifct tells us 
that consciena, is a BO\ercis;ii faculh , beinncr upon 
ita biow the stamp of authoiiti, and cvidentlj m 
tended to swiy ind control the appetites and affec 
tiLDS This ftcultv, howt^cr, has hei.n dethroned, 
the unruly pissions (in them'ielvcs mere brute im 
pulses) have usurped its seat, and domineei oyei the 
vnil, whi h becomes theu: slave ind does their bid 
ding ThiSj no doubt, is true as tar as it goes but it 
goes only a verj short way It simply points ui to 
the machinery of our nature as being in a disorganized 
state, and shows us in what the disorganization con- 
sists ; but it docs not trace up the disorganization to 
its primary cause. 

And yet it is a practical, as well as a curious and 
interesting question, what may have been the point of 
starting, fix>m which man ultimately reached that 
lowest depth of moral degradation, to which he haa 
so often sunk. In the frightful, hideous vices which 
abound in great cities, we see at once that there ia an 
enormous divergence from the rule of right. But 
where exactly did the divergence begin ? Two lines 
which parted company at a certain point, are now 
running on at a distance of many miles from each 
other in wholly opposite directions ; but when first 
they parted company, there was only a hairVbreadth 
of space between them. What was the exact point 
of divergence, at which man parted company from 
right, and commenced his downward course ? Per- 
haps, as in the case of the lines, the deviation will not 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



n ] II tne U jU Com^f D3 

seem ^ eiy senoua it the outset, though its ulti-nate 
lesuit la so frightful It IB thL. question winch the 
Apostle tufw-eih la the passage befoie u^ Mans 
moial degraditinn ho sajs, la a retributinn — ind a re- 
tbta kd(pyb el ,in the monlist's 

cc m tt tl p alit^ of God was 

h f the q est n ■wht.rLas in that 

h Grt>d IS b ugl t the stage at once, 

h wh g dat n 8 d to be a judicial 

nfl tl b Him) Man hid 1 g aded God, says the 
Apostle, and God degraded man. But how had man 
degraded God ? How c<ndd he do ao f Man can only 
degrade God in his conceptions of Him. Ho may think 
meanly and poorly of God, instead o£ investing Him 
in his ideas with every perfection. And this is just 
what really took pla«e. Man might have learned from 
Nature (for Nature is a revelation of Grod to a rational 
creature) the lesson of God's eternal power and God- 
head, had he been so minded ; His magnificence, His 
wisdom, His benevolence, are written in no obscure 
characters on the whole frame of the universe ; " For 
the invisible diings of Him from the creation of the 
world are clearly seen, being understood by the things 
that are made." But man could not, or rather he 
would not, rise to those lofty conceptions of God's 
character which Nature, studied with a simple and 
docile heart, furnishes. It is clear to common-sense 
that the watchmaker must be a far more wonderful 
being than the watch ; yet man w<y\d4 not think of God 
as a Being infinitely raised above even the noblest 
works of His hands ; he confounded Him with the 
creatures that were derived from Him, and allowed 
the religious instinct — the instinct of worship — to 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



34 The Point of Dejym-ture [chap. 

fasten upon them instead of the Creator. In a word, 
Idolatry (or the surrouudiBg the creature with the 
attributes of the Creator) is the original, fundamental 
sin of man — the point of departure from which man 
started on hia downward course until he reached the 
lowest depths of wickedness. And pray observe how, 
in the verses before us, the rapid deterioration of 
Idolatry (dearly showing the radical viciousness of its 
principle) is indicated " They changed the glory of 
the uncorruptible GJod into an image made like to 
corruptible man" — well, man is at all events the 
image and glory of God ; and some forms of human 
character have been so lofty, so commanding, so gen- 
erous, so attractive, that if any of the creatures might 
excusably be made a representative of the Most High 
in our minds, man might. But what shall we say of 
clothing with the attributes of Grod things lower than 
man in tJie scale of Cieation ? "W hat ''h dl we sa\ of 
attributing some magical virtue, some mystical control 
over human affau^s, to the ox, the hawk, the beetle ? 
Yet to this point of utter debasement did Idolatrv 
proceed : " Thej dianj;cd the glory of the mcorrupti 
ble God into an image mide like to birds, 

and four-footed beasts, and cieeping thmgs " And 
mark the awful result — m which the Apostle iccog 
nizes, not the mert, opention of a natuiil law, but 
a righteous retnbution inflicted b> a peisonil Go 1 
" Wherefore Gtod gave them up to uncleanness " For 
this cause God gaie them up unto vile aSeftions." 
Man had debased God in his conceptions of Him, 
And God, as the meet recompense of such dishonor 
done Him, really and actually debased man by aban- 
doning him to the dominion of vices, the very mention 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



IT.] in the Might Course. 35 

of wliich freezes the blood of an upright man, and 
makes his hair stand on end. 

And now to turn to account, for the purpose of 
our argument, this grand piece of Christian Philoso- 
phy, Man's point of departure for vice and a down- 
ward moral course is an unworthy and degrading 
conception of God, What is hia point o£ departure 
for an -upward moral course? What is the salient 
point, the spring, of all virtue ? The Holy Scriptures 
make answer in no equivocal terms, " Faith," — Faith 
in Christ, since it has pleased Grod to reveal His Son 
to us, but Faith ultimately in God, as the basis upon 
■which every subsequent development of faith must be 
built. " Ye believe in God," said Our Lord to His 
disciples, ye have the foimdation of true faith ; now 
then go on to rear the superstructure : " Believe also 
in Me." 

What then ia feith in Grod.? Let us seek to an- 
alyze it, and to seo what processes of mind it involves. 
When directed toward God or Christ, faith takes the 
form of trust, (Luther said, somewhat too boldly and ■ 
without qualification, that all faith was trusts) But 
how can we trust a person without a high conception 
of his character? The child trusts implicitly in its 
father — why ? Because it thinks of its father as of a 
friend who loves it, who is able to help, and wise to 
counsel it. Specially, perhaps, because it thinks its 
father able to help. There is nothing which young 
children more readily give their parents credit for than 
power. The parent, however limited his resources 
may really be, is able, in their view of him, to eistend 
protection to them under all circumstances, to extri- 
cate them from every difficulty, to make any arrange- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



36 The Puiiit of Depa/rlure. [cuAr. 

ments for their comfort. Similarly, in. all trust in God, 
there must be the inward apprehension that God ia 
the Father of oui spirits, that He cares for us tenderly, 
consults for us wisely, is able to help to the uttermost 
in every difSculty which can entangle us,— -nay, has a 
reach of love, and wisdom, and power, to which it is 
impossible to set bounds. Once upon a time there 
was a poor heathen woman who remarkably exempli- 
fied this trust in God, and into the workings of whoso 
mind, in the exercise of trust, a glimpse is given us. 
She had looked abroad upon Nature with a thoughtful 
eye. She had marked there that the wants of the 
meanest creatures ate provided for; that He who rolls 
the planet on its course of fire, and streaks the west- 
ern sky with glorious sunsets, stoops to paint the 
harebell that trembles on the heath, to feed the young 
raven, to cater even for the dogs. A Personage, of 
Whom she probably knew no more than that Ho 
claimed to be in immediate commimication with God, 
and that Ho wrought every sort of cure in attestation 
of His claims, came into her neighborhood at a time 
when she was in great trouble from the seizure of her 
daughter by an evil spirit, who harassed his victim 
with fits and frenzies, very sad for any one to see, but 
most of all a mother. She came to this Personage, 
and implored Him to heal her daughter. But He 
was a great Jewish Prophet, and she a poor benighted 
heathen ; and it pleased Him to intimate as much, 
first by turning a deaf car to her, and then, when her 
clamor extorted from Him some words, by the repel- 
ling answer that God's merdes were for His chosen 
people, for the children of His household, not for 
heathen dogs. But from the study of His works she 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



TV.] ill th-i Jiight Omirse, 3'? 

Lad learned God too well to be discouraged by thia 
cliiUing response. "Dogs" — be it so; but did not 
the great Father of all make provision even for doga ? 
was not even good food, the remnants of the children's 
bread, often thrown to the dogs in the households of 
the rich ? a proof this that God could never spurn 
from Him even the lowest creatiires of His hand. Her 
fejth, as well it might, received a solemn commenda- 
tion and recompense from the Saviour of the world. 
But what was her faith? It was simply a high idea 
of God's tender care for all His creatures, drawn from 
a devout observation of His ways in Nature and Prov- 
idence, and engendering a deep trust in His goodness, 
a trust which was proof against all discouragement — 
which held its ground in her heart, when very severely 
tried. Admirable woman I she cherished those great 
notions of our Heavenly Father, and that unswerving 
tnist in Him, which is the point of departure for all 
virtue, just as a lack of these great notions, and of 
the trust which they engender, is the point of depart- 
ure for all vice, 

Tlie Lesson which we have thus arrived at is 
taught us very emphatically by the Lord's Prayer, I 
assume that one grand object of that Prayer is to form 
the character of the petitioner to that Holiness, with- 
out which no man shall see the Lord. Now what is 
the first petition ? It is a prayer that God's character 
and attributes maybe by us worthily conceived of; 
that His Name (by which is meant His character and 
attributes) may be hallowed, regarded with profound- 
est reverence, thought of as most excellent in power, 
wisdom, and love. The man who ia bent upon the 
pursuit of righteousness will pray for this before other 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



88 The Point of Departure [chap. 

things, because this worthy conception of Giod must 
be the source of faith, and the foundation of ail virtue 
and goodness, in the heart of a rational creature. 

Seek, then, my reader — this is the great lesson of 
the present chapter — seek to feed and nourish in your 
mind great conceptions of Him, with Whom you have 
to do. Expand and csalt your notions of Hira by 
every means in your power, 

" What are these means ? " you will naturally ask. 
And for an answer I refer you to those passages of 
Scripture, which have just been passed under review. 
The Apostle says that the invisible things of God, 
even His eternal power and Godhead, "are clearly 
seen from the creation of the world " (i. e., God's cre- 
ation of the world is the source irova which true in- 
formation respecting' His lofty attributes may be 
gained), "so that they" (the Gentiles) "are without 
excuse," because the lessons which they might have 
learned of God from Nature are quite sufficient to 
have condemned their idolatries. And the Psalmist 
only throws ibe same truth into another form, when 
he says, " The heavens declare the glory o£ God, and 
the firmament showeth His handiwork." And to. the 
same effect are many of the addresses of the Almighty 
to Job, who was certainly not one of the chosen peo- 
ple, and who is reasoned with therefore from God's 
mighty works in Nature, not from the Old Testament 
Revelation, And as an example of a Gentile's actu- 
ally learning precious truth respecting God's character 
and attributes irora His dealings in Providence, if not 
in Nature, we have the Syrophcenician in the Gospel. 
Jews and Christians too often seem to think that they 
put honor upon the particular revelations which God 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



rv.] in the Hight Course. 39 

has made to them, by disparaging and neglecting the 
revelation which He has made to the Gentiles in com- 
mon with them. But why, because superior edificar 
tion and clearer light are to be had from our owrk Bible, 
are we to look down upon the edification and light 
which are to be deriped from the Bible of tlie Greo- 
tiles ? Mig-ht we not on the same principle neglect 
the Old Testament, because the New is of superior im- 
portance? But what is the case as regards the Old 
and New Testament— the Bible of the Jews, as it 
might be called, and the Bible of the Christians ? I 
appeal to any devout and well-read student of Holy 
Scripture — is not the Old Testament, when read in 
the light of the New, full of interest and edification, 
so that Leah is hardly surpassed by Eachel — the elder 
sister is nearly as lovely and as attractive as the 
younger ? Nay, is it not the Old Testament, of which 
the Apostle says that it is able to make ns wise unto 
salvation through faith that is in Christ Jesus ? Now 
why may not tlie same reasoning be applied to the 
Gentiles' Bible — the Revelation of God which existed 
long before the Law and the Prophets ? Why may 
we not, under the combined light of the Old and New 
Testaments, leara grand and glorious lessons, lemons 
soul-elevating and soul-edifying, from the Book of 
Nature and the Book of Providence ? "What are our 
Blessed Lord's Parables (the highest form, I suppose, 
of all religious teaching), but sermons preached, not 
from texts of the Old Testament, but from texts in 
Nature and Providence ? Christ's texts do not run in 
iiis style, " In the fifteenth chapter of the Book of 
Deuteronomy, and the third verse ; " but in this, " A 
sower went out to sow his seed;" "A certain man 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



40 The Point of Departure [chap, 

had two sous ; " " Consider the lilies of the field, how 
they grow ; " " Behold the fowls of the air , . . yoiir 
Heavenly Father feedeth them" (it really seems as 
if the poor Syrophcenioian woman had heard that ser- 
mon upon the fowls of the air — at all events she laid 
to heart its teaching). And remember how much 
more largely Nature has been expounded, how much 
better she is understood now, than iu the days when 
that poor heathen woman drew such precious lesaons 
from her. Then I say, if you would nourish in your 
heart high notions of God, consider the liliea of the 
field, wliich His hand paints with such beautiful col- 
ors that Solomon's robe of state is a coarse garment in 
comparison of them. Consider the fowls of the air, for 
whose wants this Almighty Householder makes pro- 
vision, and whose death-warrant He must sign before 
one of them can fall to the ground. Consider the trees, 
and their marvellous resuscitation in the spring from 
the bleatness and deadness of winter, a spectacle of 
which it is on record that the very tliought of such a 
process going on all over tiie world was made the in- 
strument' of converting a soul. Consider the stars, 
with which the vast reaches of the midnight sky are 
everywhere spangled — many of them, it is supposed, 
the suns of other systems, ministering to those sys- 

1 a«e"The CoiiTeraationa and Lettera of Brother Lawrence," 
[Masters.] " He told me ... . that in tlie winter, seeing a tree 
stripped of its learcs, and conaideiing that within a little time the 
leaves would be renewed, and after that the flowers and ftuit ap- 
pear, he received a high view of the Providence and power of 
God, ivhich lias never siuce been effaced from his soul. That this 
bad perfectly set him loose from the world, and Idndlud in him 
such a love for God, that he could not tell wlietlicv it had in- 
creased iu above forty years tbat be had lived since." 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



IV.] in tM Migfti Course. 41 

terns light and warmth, as our sun does to our system. 
Consider the wonderful architecture of the universe, 
and the admirable skill with which the Creator has 
furnished and decorated His great mansion. Occupy 
your thoughts with the wonderful instances of wise 
aud beneficent design which have been so admirably 
pointed out by Paley ' and others, and to which the 
modem advancement of science is continually contrib- 
uting fresh stores. And then consider, the work being 
so skilful, so magnificent, and adjusted to so many 
beneficent purposes, how infinitely more wise and 
grand and beneficent the Maker of it must be. — Per- 
haps you say disdainfully, " This is a mere truth o£ 
Natural Eeligion." So it is ; but it is a truth by 
which, if they would make more use of it, and lay 
it more to heart, the disciples of Revealed Eeligion 
might be wonderfully edified. For ioTuU they most 
need, what lies at the very fovm^tion of their faith, 
is an exalted conception of God. And whence shall 
they draw this conception in all its pmuty and strength 
but from the book in which Gtod is not described only, 
but visibly illustrated to the observing eye, and the 
understanding heart— the book of Nature? Only, 
when you walk abroad along the hedgerows, or by 
the side of the stream, or over the heath-clad moor, 

' For I cfumot at all aympalhizo with that depreoiation of 
Palej's line of argument, which is so much in voguo nowadaja, 
and to which I regret to seo that tJiat moBt brilliani and piofound 
of orators, the Bishop of Pete^bo^ough, has eondesooaded {Sei-mon 
he/ore ths British Assodatiort in ITonBich CatJiedra!, 1868). Be- 
cause we have (or think we liavc) found out "a more excellent 
way " of defending Kerealed Religion, this is no reason why wo 
should abolish the lines of defence reared by our amoestora. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



43 The Point of Dqxtilu/e, iff [chap. 

do so in a de'vout &piiit, a spirit tuincd toward God 
for tJie purpose o£ cominunion with Him, and your 
mind shall expand a'3 you contemplate His wonders ; 
as a poet of our owii hith eaad, j ou sliall 

" Find tongues in trees, books in the riinning brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in eyerj thing." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



V.} The £b:penmental Knowledge of God, etc. 43 



CHAPTER V. 



TIIE EXPEEIMESTAl ICNOWLUDGE OF GOD ■ 



" Iitcreasmi/ in ifte Jcnowlei^e of God." — Col. i. 10. 

IN the laat chapter we considered 'what is the point 
of departure in the attamment o£ Holinebs, the 
direction in which our faces should be set, if i^ c would 
reach that goal. The nest point with which w e shiil 
deal is the end which is to be kept m view m ill 
Christian endeavor. It is for Maot of keeping this 
end steadily before them that many well meanmi; per 
sons waste bo much time and entrgy, md make so 
little progress. The fact is, their efforts are mi'idi- 
rected. They are strongly impressed with the neces 
sity of religion, and with the desirt, of being leligions, 
irithout perceiving clearly in v, hat religion con'^ists 
They confound the means of bemg religious, or the 
effects of true religion, with its life and soul, and rest 
satisfied if their conduct exhibits these mcins ind 
some of these effects. Much the same confusion of 
thought as if in agriculture a man should take digging, 
manuring', and pruning, or blossommg and fruit-bear 
ing, tobethelifsof a tree, wheieas the one are means 
to keep the tree aliye, and tht other evidences of its 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



44 Tlia Exptrimentcd Knowledge of God [chap. 

being alive. What, then, is the life and soul of true 
religion ? "What the one point, at lyhich all religious 
efforts are to be directed ? When once wo perceive 
this distinctly, all the circumstantials o£ the spiritual 
life, the means of cultivating it, the fruits to be looked, 
for fix)m it, will fall into their right place in our minds. 
This and the following chapter will be devoted to giv- 
ing an answer to this question 

The life of true Religion, then, is in experimental 
knowledge (I do not like haid words, still less the 
technical language of thtological ptrties, let us say 
rather, a heart-kmwledge) of God — 'iuch a thorough 
appreciation of the excellonLe ind beiuty of His char- 
acter as really contents and satisfies the soul, even 
when earthly sources of happiness faiL I say, which 
satires the soid ; understand that well ; for this satis- 
fection is the test of the knowledge being of the right 
sort. St. Philip on a certain occasion said (not know- 
ing what he said, probably as ignorant of the depth 
and reach of his words as was Caiaphas in his uncon- 
scious prophecy), "Lord, show us the Father, and it 
sufficeth ns." No earthly source of happiness does 
suffice. The objects of human desire and ambition 
are very fair, and at a distance promise very well to 
him who can come up with them. But the pursuit 
of them (and the whole natural life of man is one long 
pursuit) is like the countryman's chase after the rain- 
bow. He thought that one limb of the bright arch 
rested in the field close to him, but when he had 
cleared the hedge, and come up to the spot on whieh 
it seemed to rest, the rainbow had adjourned into 
another field. Even so these various earthly objects 
of desire or anibitioii, one after another, disappoint 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



v.] the Mid of all Ohristian Mideav&r. 45 

those who attain tliem ; their prismatic colors stU 
vanish ■when we come up close to them, they are found 
to have their anxieties and their troubles {not the least 
of which is the precarious tenure of them), and some 
new rainbow is seen ahead, two or three fields off, to 
hu« us into a pursuit -which turns out to be as fruitless 
as the former. Must it ever be so ? Is there no really 
satisfactory object in which the soul of man may find 
a full and perfect contentment ? Assuredly there is. 
Our Creator does not mock and baffle us by implanting 
strong instincts in our Nature, and great yearnings 
after happiness, which have nothing corresponding to 
them. In the knowledge of Grod, in the appreciation 
of God, in the enjoyment of God, in communion with 
God, but in nothing short of tins, man can find rest. 
All ordinances, even the Holy Eucharist, which is the 
highest of all, are only means to this Communion, 
And all good works, in any high sense of the word, 
are only the fruits of this Communion. 

Observe now that this knowledge of God is, in- 
deed, the end of ends, to which every other part of 
the religious system, even those which in tlieraselves 
are most essential, is subordinated. It is the end of 
the atoning and interceding work of our dear Lord 
and Master, the aim of His whole priestly function. 
For what did Christ die, but to reconcile sinners unto 
God ? For what does He intercede, but to introduce 
sinners to God, to bring them into living communion 
with His Father ? The precious Death and the glori- 
ous Intercession were only the removal of barriers, 
which, had they been allowed to remain in the way, 
must have precluded communion with God forever. 
Our Slewed Lord's Death and His Intercession are 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



4-3 TJie Experimental Knowledge of Go4 [ciiAr. 

both parts of His Mediation. And .what is meant by 
His Mediation? Is it not this, that, in our present 
state, the sin tbafc is in us prevents our coming to Grod, 
and enjoying communion with Him, except through 
our great Representative, Who endured for us all the 
curac, and fulfilled for us all the righteousness, of the 
Law? Any true knowledge of God, independently 
of Christ, must frighten us from Him, instead of draw- 
ing us toward Him, For GJod is infinitely holy, and 
in His holiness is a consuming fire to sinners approach- 
ing Him otherwise than through a Mediator. But all 
this implies that the Mediation of Christ is itself, as, 
indeed, the word denotes, a means to an end, which 
end is communion with God, such a Itnowledgo of 
Him as involves love of Him and delight in Him. 

It may be asked, indeed, by a thoughtful listener, 
whether Our Lord, in indicating the great oommand- 
ment of the Law, and whether the structure of the 
Decalogue, on which He founds what He says, does 
not give us two ends of religious endeavor rather tlian 
one, the love of our neighbor as well as the love of 
God, " Thou shali love thy neighbor as thyself." Bui 
the answer to this is very obvious. Man ia so siow 
at perceiving what is wrapped up in the principles he 
admits, so backward in carrying those principles into 
effect, that the practices which flow from the principles 
need pressing no less than the principles themselves. 
Tlius feith, if genuine, will as certainly produce good 
works, as a tree, if alive, will certainly produce fruit. 
And hence it might be thought tliat, as faith will carry 
with it good works, it is sufficient to press faith, and 
leave the works to follow in natural course. But the 
Scriptures everywhere show us (if, indeed, oiir own 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



Y.] t/ie Mid of all Ghnstian Endeavor. 47 

knowledge of the human heart doea not show us suf- 
ficiently without the Scriptures) thi 
cannot safely be made. Duty must bo j 
tinctly and explicitly, not left to be implied in the 
motives ftom whidi it is to proceed. And so in the 
case before us. ' Our Lord, when asked about the rela- 
tive importance of the Commandments, could not 
safely make answer without some explicit reference 
to the Second Table of the I^w, Yet He does not 
hereby deny that the love .of God, if genuine, includes 
and embraces that of our neighbor. In fact, though 
each needs to be explicitly mentioned, they are not 
two independent commandments. We are to love our 
neighbor for Grod and in GEod, because God has cre- 
ated and redeemed him (no less than ourselves) ; we 
are to see in him God's handiwork, and a soul re- 
deemed by Gfod, and to love him as suck. And this 
only, and no lower regard, constitutes Christian 

Now, if we are bent upon becoming holy, it is of 
the greatest moment to us to perceive that the life of 
true Religion consists in the experimental knowledge 
and love of God, Unity of aim is a great point in 
the Christian Life. "We make no advance, we can 
make none, while we are occupied in a variety of en- 
deavors which have no common principle or end ; 
while we are busied about many things, doing here a 
little and there a little in the way of Religion, with- 
out seeking, in nil that we dp, " the one thing " su- 
premely needful. Moreover, the keeping before us 
steadilj' of the true end will show tts what religious 
exercises are most worth cultivating, and upon wliat 
our time and labor will be always well bestowed. 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



48 The, M&p&nrnerdal KntymUdge, of God [chap. 

These will be tho exercises whJcii go most directly, 
and with least oircuitousness, to the great end. 

As thus — 

(1) The knowledge of God is gained, as the knowl- 
edge of man ia gained, by living much with Him. If 
we oHly come across a man occasionally, and in public, 
and see nothing of him in Lis private and domestic 
life, we carmot be said to know him. All the knowl- 
edge of God which many professing Christians have is 
derived from a formal salute which they make to Him 
in their prayers, when they rise up in the morning 
and lie down at night. While this state of things 
lasts, no great progress in the Christian Life can pos- 
sibly be made. No progress would be made, even if 
they were to offer stated prayer seven times a day, 
instead of twice. But try to draw down God into 
your daily work ; consult Him about it ; offer it to 
Him as a contribution to His Service; ask Him to 
help you in it; ask Him to bless it; do it as to the 
Lord and not unto men ; refer to Him in your temptar 
tions ; seek a refuge under the shadow of His wings 
until the tyranny of temptation be overpast; go back 
at once to His bosom, when you are conscious of a 
departure from Him, not waiting till night to confess 
it, lest meanwhile the night of death should overtake 
you, or at best you should lose time in your spiritual 
course ; in short, wallc hand in hand with God through 
life (as a little child walks hand in hand with its father 
over some dangerous and thorny road) , dreading above 
all things to quit His side, and assured thai, as soon 
as you do so, you will fall into mischief and trouble ; 
seek not so much to pray as to live in an atmosphere 
of prayer, lifting up your heart jnomentarily to Him 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



v.] the End of all Christian JUndeavor. 49 

ia varied expressioaa of devotion as the various occa- 
sions of life n ij pro pt % lor H thank eg Him 
resigning your vill to Hi i mi y t mes a day in 1 
more or less all diy an 1 yo i shall thu'^ as yo a 1 
vanc« in this p act ce i« it I Pcon es mo e ml mn e 
liabitnal to you inciaasp n that k oylodj^e of Gol 
which fully contents and satisfies the soul 

(3) Again ; it is obvious that the knowledge of God 
of which we speak may be obtained from studying His 
mind as it is given us in the Holy Scriptures. We 
may be said to know an author, when we have so care- 
fully aud constantly read his worlcs as to imbibe his 
spirit. A direct step, therefore, to the knowledg-e we 
ajo in search of, may be made by what our Ordinal 
calls " daily reading and weighing of the Scriptures " — 
not " reading " merely, but " weighing," thinking over 
them, applying them to our own case, judging ourselves 
by the standard they set up, seeking to hear Gkid's 
voice in them, treasraing them up in our hearts against 
the hour of need as infallible oracles. It is through 
Hia Word that God speaks to us, as it is through 
Prayer that we speak to God ; for which reason he 
who would cultivate acquaintance with God must 
cultivate a taste for the Holy Scriptures — I do not 
mean, of course, a literary or antiquarian tasto (though 
as a mere piece of ancient literature the Bible is the 
most wonderful book in the world), but a devotional 
taste ; he must aim at being able to say with the 
Psalmist, " Oh, how sweet are Thy words unto my 
taste ! yea, swootor than honey to my mouth I Oh, 
how I love Thy law 1 all the day long is my study in 
it^" Observe, "all the day long." My mind, in 
which it is stored up, is always recurring to it in the 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



50 TM M^ei-imental Knowledge of God [chap. 

intervals of business, turning' it over with fresh in- 
quiry ioto its sig^oificaflce, finding new illustrations of 
its truth in Nature, in human life, in my own experi- 
ence. There is a study of Scripture which is analo- 
gous to ejaculatory prayer — ^not a stated study (though 
of course the stated study of it may not be neglected), 
but a study which inweaves the Word into the daily 
life of the Christian, a rumination which can be car- 
ried on without book, and which is more or less con- 
tinual. 

(3) Again ; if sanctity stands in the knowledge of 
God, Burely the discipline of life will very much con- 
tribute, imder God's blessing, toward sanctity. If a 
man has had no dealings with us personally, though 
we may have heard of him, and he may be no stranger 
to us by reputation, we cannot be said to hnoto him. 
But if transactions of many different sorts pass be- 
tween us, hia character then transpires, and Lis ways 
reveal themselves to us. Now pur Heavenly Father 
comes up close to us, if He sees that we are resolutely 
bent on ^ving our hearts to Him, and deals with us, 
" in all the changing scenes of life, in trouble and in 
joy." So long as people desire to hold Him at ann's 
length, He only sweeps round the circumference of 
their existence ; but when they desire to have Him 
in their hearts, He advances into the centre of their 
life. He trains them for glory by what is called their 
fortunes, by reverses, by tears, by trials, by manifold 
temptations, by touching them in their sensitive part, 
sometimes by a sunshine of prosperity, which makes 
their heart espand in gratitude to Him, Those, then, 
who desire to have a practical and experimental, as 
distinct from a speculative knowledge of Him, will 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



v.] the End of all Christian Endeavor. 51 

study Him in these His dealings ; tliey will try to 
(liscem the lesson of every part of their own experi- 
ence, if haply it may teach theia somethiTig of Him 
vrith Whom they have to do, and ■will tJius have Hia 
ipisdom, power, and love, impressed upon them in a 
way, in which nothing short of experience can im- 
press. 

We will conclude this chapter by observing that 
increase in the knowlei^e of God, as it oiiaraoterizes 
the tme Cimstian's present course, so wUl it be liis 
business throughout eternity. For we are not to con- 
ceive of a glorified saint as if he were stereotyped in 
a certain measure of Light and Love, and could ad- 
vance no farther than to a certain point in the knowl- 
edge of God. Our nature seems to be so constituted as 
not to acquiesce in a particular measure of knowledge 
on any subject; we are not made to be stationary; 
progress toward a goal, which yet we never can reach, 
seems to be one essential condition of our happiness. 
And why, as God is infinite, and His resources of wis- 
dom, power, and love, are inexhaustible, may not a 
blessed eternity be spent in feesh discoveries of His 
giory, each of which will throw preceding discoveries 
into the shade, and serve as a new theme of adora^ 
fion and praise ? O great soul of man, made for the 
Infinite, made for the apprehension of the Heavenly 
Father in all the beauty of His holiness and in all the 
sweetness of His love, what a wrong doest thou to 
thyself and to thine own capacities, by grovelling 
among low and uadean desires, as among the swine, 
and feeding upon the husks of mere momentary en- 
joyments 1 Reader, thou hast one of these treasures, 
an immortal spirit, intrusted to thy charge. The 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



53 The Mcjperimental Knowledge of God, etc. [chap. 

Eternal Son of God prized it so highly that He stooped 
to earth to gather it up, shed His Blood to rausom it, 
offers His Spirit to sanctify it, designs to place it as a 
jewel in His Kedempiion Orown. Will you, tbrough 
love of sin, or mere carelessness and Mvolity, forfeit 
it again? Will you unfold its great capacities under 
the guidance of His Spirit ; or will you allow it to run 
to waste, like those many seeds in Nature, which are 
never quickened into life ? And what is to repay thee 
for the loss of it ? Hear and weigh the solemn words, 
" What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole 
world, and lose his own soul ? " 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



VI.] TliA JSnd of the Commandment^ etc. 



CHAPTER VI. 



D THE iJiroit- 
; OF I 



" Now t/te end of i/ie comnumdment is e/tariit/ <mt of a pare heart, 
and of a good consdence, and of faith unfeigned: fom lolaeh 
some hamnff swiervcd, have turned aside wrtlo vain Jangling." — 
1 Tiii. i, 5, 8. 

THERE is a metaphor in these words (more ap- 
parent in the original than in the translation), 
drawn from the subject of archery. The word ren- 
dered " swerving " denotes the mining or going wide 
of the point at which an arrow is aimed. By " the 
commandment " is probably meant the whole code of 
God's Precepts, whether under the Law or the Gos- 
pel. These precepts are very numerous ; but many 
as they are, they may all be reduced under two great 
heads— nay, they may all be summarized under OJm 
head, Charity or Love. The aim of every command- 
ment, of the whole code of Precepts, is love to God 
and man, love flowing out of a heart purified by feith 
in Christ's Blood, and sanctified by Christ's Spirit, and 
out of a conscience which makes echo that the heart 
is indeed thus purified and sanctified. Those religious 
teachers who do not place this before them as the aim 
of all Divine Precept, are apt to go very wide of the 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



5i The End of the Commandment, [cuap. 

mark, and to engage their listeners witli unprofitable 
controversial questions. The same idea as to the 
main bearing of Divine Precept is given us by Our 
Lord in His answer to the lawyer's question, " Mas- 
ter, which is the great commandment in the law ? 
Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
God with all thy heart, and with all thy soni, and 
with all thy mind. This is the first and great com- 
mandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two command- 
ments hang all the Law and the Prophets." (The 
imagery here is taken from the custom of fixing in the 
brickwork o£ Oriental houses large nails, upon which 
to suspend various domestic utensils.) And St. Paul 
in his Epistle to the Romans has the same idea in yet 
another form; "Owe no man any thing, but to love 
one another : for he that loveth another hath ful- 
filled the Law. . . . Love worketh no ill to his neigh- 
bor ; therefore Love is the fulfilling of the Law." Thus 
Love is represented in Holy Scripture, sometimes as 
the contents or filling up of Giod's precepts, sometimes 
as the mark or butt to which every precept ia directed, 
sometimes again, as the stay and support upon which 
every precept is suspended. It is a great testimony 
to the importance of the doctrine tlius announced, 
that it is thrice solemnly reiterated in different parts 
of Holy Scripture, and under different forms of ex- 
pression. 

It ia obvious that, in oi-der to solid proficiency in 
any kind of art, the student must first be furnished 
with a clear answer to the question, What is the ob- 
ject — the end to be reached ? Take the art of oratory^ 
for instance. What (in brief) is the thing to be done 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



vl] and the ImpoHanae of Keeping it in View. 55 

by the orator, the end at which he must aim ? Let us 
say that it is to persuade the audience to adopt of re- 
frain from a certain course of action. If he can per- 
suade them to do what he advises, he hits the mark, he 
reaches the end of the art — in a word, he succeeds. 
But if, after having heard him, tliey act in a way op- 
posite to that which he recommends, he goes wide of 
the mark — his speech is a failure. And this is a good 
subject to draw the instance from, because as a fact 
both speakers and bearers often do make much the 
same mistake as to oratory, which, as I shall presently 
show, is universally made as to ReUgion. Too often, 
for example, is a fine sermon thought to be, not that 
which gives a spur to the wills of the hearers, not that 
which induces them to set about refonning their lives, 
and becoming good people, but tliat which merely ex- 
plains a difficult text of the Bible, or which goes tow- 
ard settling a controversial question, or which, not 
even possessing merits as .high as these, has merely 
fine language and flowers of rhetoric to recommend it. 
Now it is dear that the perception of the true end is 
the first step toward setting the practice right, I have 
done something toward rectifying my preaching, if I 
have settled it in my own mind that, on the one hand, 
I shall fail utterly, unless I send the audience away 
with a desire for, and an impulse toward, spuitual im- 
provement, and that, on the other, I shall succeed per- 
fectly, if I do send them away with such a desire and 
impulse, even if my sermon should settle no contro- 
versy, should explain no merely speculative difficulty, 
and should be absolutely wanting in fine words and in 
all the graces of style. St. John wm a true orator in 
his old age, when from his infirmities he was unable to 

Ho-odt,Googk' 



5G The End of the Commaiidm&nt, [chap. 

saj no more than this, "Little children, love one an- 
other," because the antecedents of that holy and ven- 
erable Bishop, and the deep and living sympathy with 
which he uttered the words, really moved the hearers 
to comply with the precept, and their feuds sank to 
rest at the sound of his voice. 

Let ns take an instance from another art, where 
there may perhaps be some doubt as to what should 
be the artist's object. What is tlie end of painting, 
the aim which the painter must set before him ? Is 
it to deceive the spectator, to give him a felse im- 
pression, to make liim imagine that the painted ob- 
ject is a real one ? It would seem that the ancients 
thought so from the story current among them of the 
tiial of skill between Ti&xaxa and Parrhasins, in which 
one of them painted a bimch of grapes so like nature, 
that the birds came and pecked at them, and the other 
a craiiain so like real drapery, that his brotber artist 
called on him to draw tiie curtain and exhibit his 
picture. Or is the end of painting not to deceive, 
but to please the spectator by a faithful imitation of 
Nature — an end which is incompatible with decep- 
tion ; for if the spectator is to be affected witli pleas- 
ure by the fidelity of an imitation, he must, of course, 
be aware that it m aii imitation, and not the reality ? 
And, again, how is Nature to be imitated by the 
painter ? Servilely, and in a matter-of-fcict way, line 
upon line, featnire by feature ? Or shall we say rather 
that there is a soul in Nature, a soul in every counte- 
nance, ay, and a soul in every landscape, which strug- 
gles for a fuller development, and to which it is the 
painter's business to give expression? In other 
words, is a photograph the very highest style of imi- 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



VI.] and the Lnportance of Keeping it in View. 57 

tatdve art^ because it is true in the letter? or is a 
portiuit of Hafiaelle's or MuriUo's infinitely higher 
thau aay photograph can be, because it is true not so 
much in the letter as in the spirit ? It is not to my 
point to answer these questions, but only to call at- 
tention to the fitct that they may be aslied, and an- 
swered difFerently. And an artist who intends to 
paint successfully miist have a clear answer to them 
in his mind before he begins. He must resolve him- 
self on the question, " What is the true object of my 
art? Is it to produce deception? Is it to please 
persona by a faithful imitation of Nature ? And if 
so, what is a faithful imitation ? Is it a servile copy, 
like the Chinese imitation of pottery, which repro- 
duces the flaws and the cracks ; or is it the develop- 
ment of a feature which in the original seems to yearn 
for expression ? " If this point be not settled at the 
beginning, he is certain to go astray in the execution. 
The above illustrations will not be thrown away, 
if they tend in any mind to clear up the position 
which we are endeavoring to estabhsh. As in the 
arts, so also in the pursuit of Hohness, or in other 
words, in the spiritual life, there is an en,d ; and it is 
all-important that they who would be profidents in 
the spiritiial life should discern clearly what this end 
is, and hold it steadily before them in their every 
endeavor. The end is love — supreme love, with all 
the powers of the soul, to God — and such love to our 
brethren as we bear to ourselves — this love to be en- 
gendered by a living faith in what GEod has done for 
ua, a faith which seta free the heart both from a sense 
of guilt and from a love of sin, aad which thus seta 
the conscience at ease. If this love is in some meas- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



58 The. Mid of the. Commandment, [o;iAr. 

ure yielded both to Gfod and man, tlje object of tme 
religion is attained. If this love is riot produced and 
maintained in the bouI, ive fail altogether in true 
Religion, and that, though we may have been very 
nusy aboiit Religion, may have put up many prayers, 
heard many sermons, attended many sacraments, as- 
sisted in many philanthropic enterpriBea. 

Some, perhaps, wiU ask, and not without surprise, 
" Are not Prayers, and Scriptm'e Readings, and Ser- 
mons, are not even Sacraments and good works, true 
Religion ? " No ; not if you will think accurately 
on the subject, without confusing the relations of the 
varioiis parts of the Religious system. Prayer and 
Scripture Reading, and Sermons, and Sacraments, are 
means to true Religion ; and as they are means of 
Divine appointment, they are sure, if faithfully and 
devoutly used, to conduce to the end. But for all 
that, they are 7iot the end ; and to regard them as 
such is a mischievous confusion of thought, which 
may very possibly disturb our spiritual aim, and make 
us shoot very wide of the mark. It is true, no doubt, 
that the religious exercises we have specified are ab- 
solutely essential (in all cases where thoy may be had) 
to the spiritual life. But even this fact does not talse 
them out of the category of means, and make them 
ends. A scaffolding is the means of building a house; 
nay, more, it is an essential means ; for how coidd the 
upper stories ever be raised without a scaffolding ? 
But in material things of this kind, no one ever mis- 
takes the means for the end. No one ever confounds 
the house with the scaffolding, or imagines that the 
object of a builder is achieved, if nothing should ever 
be exhibited to the eye hiii scaffolding, if tliere be no 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



VI.] and the Iniportanoe of Keeping it in View. 59 

foundation dug, aiid no layers of briolis be^n to rise 
above the earti. But in matters spiritual tbere are 
hundreds who are satisfied witli themselves, i£ they 
exhibit day by day nothing but a religious apparatus, 
if they have literally nothing to show but prayers 
duly and attentively said. Church duly attended, Sac- 
raments periodically and solemnly received. And 
others there are, who confound the fruits of Religion 
with Religion itself — who, because they bei^ a part in 
good works, help good objects, devote some time and 
money to the relief of the poor, are perfectly satisfied 
with these external symptoms of spirituality, and 
never stop to inquire whether tliey are in deed and in 
truth spiritual. But alas ! it is too possible to be use- 
ful in many ways, without being actuated in what we 
do by love to God or love to man, without a sincere 
desire to please and glorify our Creator, or to serve 
and benefit those who were made in His image, and 
redeemed by His Son's Blood. 

See now how the keeping the end of the religious 
life steadily before us gives a right direction to effort, 
and simplifies our work. 

1. And, first, how it gives a right direction to 
effort. Energy is so valuable a thing that it is melan- 
choly to think of any of it being thrown away, and 
lunning to waste. In religious and moral life, more 
especially, we all manifest so little energy, that it is 
necessary to make every effort as telling as possible, 
so as to husband what energy we have. And no ef- 
fort can be telling, unless it be b^towed in the right 
quarter. Now, if the great end of all Religion be 
the love of God, and of man for Grod's sake, this 
shows in what quarter our efforts should be directed. 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



CO The End of tlie Commmnhnent, [chap. 

It is not so much the thing done, as the spirit in 
which it is done, which is of such great moment. 
For love is an affection of the heart and ■will, and we 
know that very small tokens, the merest trifles, will 
erince it ; and that, when it is evinced, it has a pe- 
culiar power of winning its way both with Grod and 
man. Suppose a great fortune laid out in building 
churches, or relieving tlie poor, under tlie pressure of 
servile fear, and with the design of expiating sin, or 
a great philanthropic enterprise inaugurated and 
maintained fixjm ambitious motdves ; can it be sup- 
posed that such acts, however it may please Him to 
bless the eifects of them, go for any thing with God 
as regards the doer of them? And, on the other 
hand, suppose some very simple, commonplace action, 
something not going at all beyond the circle of rou- 
tine and daily duty, done with a grateful, affectionate 
feeling toward God, and from a simple desire to please 
Him, and to win His approval — can it be supposed 
that such an action, however trifling in itself, does 
not go for something, nay, for much, with God ? The 
love of Him with all the heart, and mind, and soul, 
and strength, is " the first and great commandment." 
One movement of that love gives to the commonest 
action the fragrance of a sacrifice ; whiZe, without one 
movement of it, the costliest offering must of neces- 
sity be rejected, " If a man should give all the sub- 
stance of his house for love, it would utterly be con- 



And does not love win its way also with man, who 
is made in the Image of G«d ? A wealthy person, who 
only condescends to relieve the poor out of his abun- 
dance, without feeling or expressing sympathy witli 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



VI.] and the Jmporlance of Keeping it in Yieio, 01 

them, finds thereby no door of access to their hearts, 
though they may be glad enough to avail themselves 
of his munificence. While, on the other hand, one who 
has little or notliing to give the poor, but visito them 
with evident interest in their condition, and words 
and looks expressive of that interest, is sure to insin- 
uate himself into their confidence and affection. The 
moral of all which is, that if we would bestow our 
efforts in the spiritual life well and wisely, we need 
not so much seek to do something religious, as to do 
ordinary things in a religiotfa manner, cultivating 
high and loving thoughts of God while vre do our 
work, and seeking to do it well, where no eyes are 
upon us, from the view of pleasing Him ; and in 
all services to our feUow-men thinking of the Image 
of God, which lies hidden and overlaid with rubbish 
in their souls, as in ours, and of the enormous price 
of Christ's Blood, which was paid down for all, show- 
ing how high must have been God's estimation of 
ea«h of them. I believe we shall never regret any 
amount of pains taken in doing common things as 
unto the Lord, and in striving to evince love to Him 
by means of ^em. 

3. Finally ; the keeping before us steadily the love 
of God and man as our great end wonderfully simpli- 
fies oui- work ; abbreviates it, if I may so express my- 
self, and saves us the toil of many a circuitous route. 
Say that I have sinned to-day, come miserably short 
of my good resolutions, gone back from grace. What 
is to be done now ? Nature prompts me to delay my 
return to my Heavenly Father, under the plea that it 
is a very arduous and elaborate business, which cannot 
be achieved in a short time. Nature says that ap- 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



6'^ The JSnd of the Commandment, [chap. 

proaolies mufii bo thrown up by prayers, and fastings, 
and ordinances, before we can come at the footstool 
of an offended God ; that, moreover, we must draw 
aear to Him after the established and methodized 
system, humbling ourselves first, and dreading His 
7eageance, then lifting up our heads In hope, and 
finally, after such due preparation, offering cnxt prayer 
for mercy. Now is not all thia going round, when we 
might go direct to the point at once ? And if this 
policy is made a plea for delay in returning, is it not 
most hazardous, inasmuch as only the present moment 
of life ia ours for certain ? What saith the Scripture? 
" Her sins, which are many, are forgiven ; for she 
loved much." A loving confidence in the God we 
have offended, though not of course in any sliape 
meritoriooa, is the key to his heart, the key winch un- 
locks the treasury of His grace. What is tlie object 
in all religion? What ia the thing to be done, the 
end to be arrived at ? " Love out of a pure heart, 
and of a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned." 
Then would it not be wiser, shorter, better, to make 
straight for this end at once ? Nature whispers that, 
having been unfaithful to Him, I ought to go to God 
in tears. So I ought ; but if the tears were not shed 
by love, they would not be acceptable. Then, with a 
perfect confidence in the power of the Blood of Christ 
to wash away this (as every other) stain from the con- 
science, let me walk straight up to my Heavenly 
Father with the utmost amount of filial afiection, 
filial confidence, filial yearning, which I can muster. 
My filial relationship to Him cannot be ruptured by 
my ain. And God's fatherly compassion, founded 
upon tliat relationship, cannot be expunged from His 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



\i.] mid the TmpoHanee of Keeping it in Yiew, 63 

heart, even sbouldHis holiness and justice oblige Him 
to baaish me. Then let me take my stand upon that 
oompassion- which prompted the gift of Christ for me, 
and plead it with Hiin, and tell Him that I want a 
free forgiveness, in order that I may return agsun. to 
His guidance with as little delay as may be. Tears 
will be in the way to flow when I tliink upon His 
much-abused love, and try my best to return it. For 
great are His gifts to the slightest exercise of confi- 
dence oa the part of His children. Each is His answer 
to the prayer, in which He hears even a single note 
of filial sentiment. When the prodigal is yet a great 
way off, the father sees liim, and runs, and falls on his 
neck and Idssea him. Verily we do Him wrong to 
think that He, Who hath given up His Son for us all, 
requires laborious preparations before we can approach 
Him, or can be pleased with any thing short of love. 
Balak's three times seven altars and seven rams were 
quite beside the mark, as a means of winning the 
Divine acceptance. He asked ' (and it is the ques- 
tion which Nature always asks), " Wlierewith shall I 
come before the Lord, and bow myself before the 
high Gtod ? Shall I come before Him with burnt-offer- 
ings, with calves of a year old ? WUl the Lord be 
pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands 

1 I have taken Bialiop Butler's view of the meaniDg of tliis 
passage in Micah (vi. 5, 6), without, homever, being ignorimt of 
uliat is t« be said agMofit it. According to tliis view, there is no 
breafe betireen v. 5 and 6 ; but bs. 6, 7 give Balak'a " eonsnlta- 
tation," and e, B, " wliat Balaam, the Bon of Beor, answered him." 
It makes no difference to my argument, whether this, or ibe cou- 
Irarj view, bo adopted. Either way, the lesson of uw. G, "l, 8, ia 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



G4 27(6 End, of the Commandment, etc. [chap, 

of rivers of oil ? " And liow waa he answered by the 
Prophet ? — that love to mar, and an humble affeetioa- 
ate trust in God, is the only available sacrifice. " He 
hath showed thee, O man, what is good ; and what 
doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to 
love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ? " 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Til.] Of the various Sentimenls, etc. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF TUE VAEIOUS SENITMENTS EMBEACER IN 'I'lIE LOVE 
01' G01>. 

" 37m)w s/udl lone t/ie Lord thy God vnlh all Ihj hcaii, and m't/i all 
tliy smd, and tcilh all ihj stren^ik, artd with all tlcy mind." — 
Luke x. 27. 

AN over-subtle scrutiny of the worda of a sentence 
sometimes impMis our perception of its force. 
Nor are tlie inspired sentences of Holy Scripture ex- 
ceptions to this rule. As by dissecting a <Jead body 
in an anatomy-school you could gain ao notion of the 
contour, general bearing, and power of tiie living 
body ; as by bringing a microscope to bear upon the 
vein of an insect's wing you ccfidd form no just con- 
ception of that insect, as it disports itself in the sum- 
mer sun ; so by entering with too great minuteness 
into the language of Holy Scripture, it is possible to 
miss (or at least to apprehend but feebly) its great 
pui'port. Accordingly, I do not propose to draw any 
IJvnraful distinctions between the several faculties here 
specified as " the heart," " the soul," " the strength," 
and "the mind." The great scope of the precept 
obviously is that we should love Gtod with all our 
powers. Whatever fibres there are in avs nature, by 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



66 Of the ■va/i'ioz^ Sentiments [coai'. 

which we cling and cleave to those around ua, these 
fibres miist all throw themselves out toward Him, and 
embrace Him as their first object. 

Yet without appropriating any distinct force to 
each of the words of which our text is made up, we 
may remark generally in illustration of it that there 
are several senses in which the word " loye " is used, 
or rather several idnds of love, between which we 
need not hesitate to draw a distinction, because such a 
distinction rests upon a real and palpable difference. 

"We saw in our last Chapter that the love of God 
is the sum and substance of all true Religion, and that 
in the pursuit of Holiness this love and the exercise 
of it must be kept steadily before us as our end. The 
love of Grod, then, in ite different varieties, demands 
some amount of study from all who would follow after 
Holiness, and it will not be giving it too prominent 
a place in our argument if we devote to it several 
Chapters. In the present Chapter we will trace only 
the divisions of the subject, taking up afterward more 
fully any of those divisions which it seems most ne- 
ce^ary to enlarge upon. 

1. The first idea which starts into the mind at the 
mention of the word " love," the earliest form in which 
love presents itself to us, is that of natural affection. 
The little cliild loves its parents, clings to its mother, 
runs to welcome its father on his return home — this 
is with us all the earliest exercise of love. This cx- 
errase of love is without deliberation, without reason ; 
it wells up spontaneously from the hidden depths of 
Nature. It has no moral esteem in it ; it would be 
felt as much toward a bad parent as a good (suppos- 
ing him, that is, not to be altogether bad aa a parent, 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



"VTi.] embraced in the Love of God. 6T 

which even the worst men seldom are). It lias no 
gratitude in it; for it is experienced by children too 
young to appreciate the enormous debt which, is due 
to a parent. And it hais no benevolence in it ; there 
is no desire in the child's mind o£ succoring the par 
vents or rendering them assistance ; nay, the idea that 
a parent can need any assistance ia as fiir as possible 
from the minds of very young children, who usually 
conceive their parents to be omnipotent. In short, 
this love is an instinct, seated in Nature, and arising 
in some mysterious way (of which we can ^ve no 
account) from the relationship between parent and 
ohDd. The same instinct is found in an incipient and 
orude state among animals. In virtue of it the chick- 
ens seek the shelter and warmth of their mother's 
outspread wings. But in man this instinct, being 
kneaded up vrith the spirit or reason, becomes de- 
veloped and spiritualized, and endures long after the 
age of childhood has passed away. 

Now the question is, whether this love of natural 
affection is capable of being exercised toward Al- 
mighty God — is one of the forms in which we are 
exhorted to love Him ? And the answer is, that it 
plainly is so. The Apostle to the Hebrews calls God 
" the Father of our spirits." And it was the peculiar 
mission of Our Blessed Lord to reveal and declare 
tliat most comfortable truth, tlie Paternity of God. 
Observe how the terms "your Father which is in 
heaven," "your Father," "thy Father which is -in 
secret, which seeth in secret," "your heavenly Fa- 
ther," interpenetrate the Sermon on the Mount ; how 
they are continually reappearing, as if they were the 
warp of the divine discourse. 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



68 Of the, various Sentiments [chap. 

Now fhis relationaljip to Grod is altogether peculiar 
to man, or at all events, if shared by him with oilier 
creatures, shared only with the Angels. The lower 
animals are God's areaiburea. And it cannot be denied 
that there is a tie of tenderness which, in virtue of 
this lower relationship, binds even them to their Crea- 
tor, and gives them a place in His heart. "Witness 
passages like these, which testify to such a tie : — 
" Gk)d remembered Noah and every living thing, and 
all the cattle which was with Mm in the arh ; " 
" Should not I spare Nineveh, that great city wherein 
are more than sixscore thousand persons that cannot 
discern between their right hand and their left hand, 
and also swwc/i eattU ? " " He giveth to the beast his 
food, and to the young ravens which cry ; " " Are 
not five sparrows sold for two fiirthings ? and not ojie 
of them is forgotten before God." We find some 
echo of this sentiment of the Divine Mind in the 
tenderness of the artist or artisan to his own produc- 
tions ? Could a poet endure to bum the poem, or a 
sculptor to shiver the statue, or a mechanic to break 
the machinery, on ivhich he had bestowed much still, 
labor, and time ? But the sentiment toward a produc- 
tion is of a lower grade and less tender than tliat 
toward offspring ; and, " we," says St. Paul to the 
Athenians, quoting and adopting the words of a 
heathen poet, " are Has off^ing^ He is " the 
Father of our spirits ; " the Father especially of that 
faculty in us which is capable of responding to His 
appeals and holding intercourse with Him — the reason 
or spirit. The power of moral choice, the conscience, 
the capacity of conversing with God in prayer, these 
are all scintillations from Grod's own uncrKited essence, 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



vil] emdi'oeed in tits Love of God. 69 

Now the first love which God requires from us 
must flow from the recognition of this relationship 
between us and Himself, which, obscured as it had 
been by idolatry and the manifold corruptions of the 
human heart, it was one great object of the Gospel to 
bring to light and announce in the most explicit man- 
ner. Love indSed, the warmest love, is due to God 
from us on other groimds, on the ground of His mercy 
and loving-kindness, and on the ground of the intrinsic 
excellence and perfection of His character. But none 
of the more rational and deliberate exercises of affec- 
tion can dispense us from the instinct which arises 
from the simple relationship subsisting between Him 
and us. What would be thought of a son, whose en- 
tire feeling to his father was expressed thus ; " I love 
vou because you have been so kind to me, and be- 
cause you are so excellent a man." These are most 
rational grounds of love, but the parent would prob- 
ably wish to hear alleged as well as these : " I love 
you because you are my father." The love which 
flows directly out of the connection is the most spon- 
taneous, the most natural, and the most fresh of all. 

And who is there among us who may not this 
moment jield tiiis love to Almighty God, if with 
simple, unsophisticated mind, like those listeners who 
clustered round the feet of Our Lord on the verdant 
Idj -clad hiU where He delivered His great Sermon, he 
ifUl but open the ears of his heart to those great 
and glorious illustrations of God's Fatherhood, which 
Heaven's great Ambassador proposes; "Behold the 
fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they 
reap, nor gather into bams ; yet your Heavenly Father 
fccdcth them. Are ye not much better than they ? " 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



70 Of the, various Sentiments [ciiAr. 

. . . "Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall 
we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal 
shall we be clothed ? (for after all these things do tlie 
Gentiles seek : ) for your Sea/oenly .Fht/ier knowetk 
that ye need all these things." , , . "What man is 
there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give 
him a stone ? or if he ask a fish, will he give liim a 
sea^ent ? If ye tJaea, being evil, know how to give 
good gifts unto your children, how much more shall 
your Father which is in heaven give goo^ things to 
them that ask Sim ? " 

3. The next form of love which is developed in the 
life of the individual man is the love of gratitude. 
This, too, is felt, in the first instance, toward parents. 
The infant becomes a child, and, together with natural 
affection for its parents, the child soon begins to feel 
a sense of their kindness to him. He feels that no 
one wishes him well with the same heartiness and de- 
votion as they ; and because it is in our nature to be 
won by kindness, he responds to their love ; and this 
is Ms earliest exercise of gratitude. It is important 
to observe, that v/hat he is attracted by — what stirs 
in him the love of gratitude — is not so much the 
benefits received flxtm the parent, as the mind of loud- 
ness which those benefits evince. For conceive the 
case (yet it wants no conceiving, it is often realized) 
of a stranger, cold in his manners and patronizing in 
his deportment, approaching a child with presents. 
The presents may be acceptable — just what the cliUd 
would wish to possess — they may glitter with those 
bawbles which are so attractive to the childish mind, 
and the recipient may enter upon the possesion and 
enjoyment of them ; but in vain does the stranger at- 

Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



VII.] ernhraced in tlie Love of God. 71 



iempt to conciliate good-will in this manner. ITie 
child is shy of him, does not trust him — a sure sign 
that it docs not loye him. On the other hand, the 
parents of the child may be poor, and unable to make 
presents ; but it matters not, as far as the gratitude 
felt for them is concerned. The child has such assur- 
ances of their deep and living interest in him, those 
assurances have been given so naturally, so unceas- 
ingly, so spontaneously, that it has a thorough confi- 
dence in their affection, and loves them again for their 
kindness, not for the manifestations of it. 

Now, that this love of gratitude may be, is to be, 
ought to be, felt toward Gfod, it needs not many 
words to prove. "We love Him," says St. John, 
"because He first loved us." Gratitude toward Giod 
is the one great moral engine which the Gospel mates 
use of in subduing the will and sanctifying the heart 
of man. What is the Gospel but a most astounding 
display of the Divine Mercy, by which God proposes 
to carry the fortress of the human heart, which stands 
out against all the artiEery of His threatenings ? It 
is a Revelation of Love to all mankind — Love of sucli 
fervor and intensity, that it moved God to make the 
only sacrifice He was capable of making, to give His 
Only-Begotten Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 
It is announced, that in the death of that Son all have 
died, have paid the penalty and endured the curse of 
sin, and that henceforth the curse is abolished for all 
who simply hold to Him by faith ; that all such are 
not only justified by the righteousness of Christ, but 
secured and shielded by His living intercession. Now 
the response of the sinner's heart to this Love of God 
is the one great secret of sauctification. To open 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



73 Of the varioua Sentiments [chap. 

wide the windows o£ our hearts, and to allow the 
light of this Love to flood every dark chink and cranny 
of- tho soul, this it is to be sanctified. For aa the 
moon shines, not by its own light, but by giving back 
the radiance which the sun sheds upon it, so our 
hearts can no otherwise sliine in holiness than by giv- 
ing back, in the exercise of adoring gratitude, the 
light of the Divine Love, as manifested to us in Jesus 
Christ; as it is written, "We love Him" (and the 
love of God is the sum and substance of holiness) 
" because He first loved us." Observe the accuracy 
of the expression : "We love Him " — not because He 
ransomed our souls, forgave us, gave us His Son, or 
conferred any other benefit upon us; but "because 
He first loved us." We must not represent gratitude 
as a sordid affection, responding only to what we get 
from God. It responds to the sentiment of the giver, 
not to the gift. What attracts us is the astonishing 
Love of our Heavenly Father, in the fece of 'all our 
indesert, guilt, rebellion, vileneas. Wliat God gives. 
He gives because His Fatherly heart is set upon us. 
It is His parental tenderness, of which the Gospel is 
HO illustrious a display, ivhich conciliates our confi- 
dence, makes us trust Him, and deposit our cares and 
troubles in His ear, 

3. The third form of love to which we rise in the 
order of Nature is the love of moral esteem. Arrived 
at years of discretion, the child yields to its parents a 
less instinctive and more deliberate affection than it 
has yet been capable of. It observes in them upright- 
ness of purpose, consistency of their conduct with their 
professions, sincerity, kindness, and all the other ele- 
ments of character winch go to make up goodness. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



VII.] embraced in the Love of God. 

He esteems and venerates tbem for tlie p 
tkese qualities. Other people seem to him siiaJiow 
and insincere in compaiison; bis parents have a 
ivoight of character, which commands his respect. 

Now this love of moral esteem is one of the chief 
and one of the highest forms which the love of tk)d 
takes. And if we were required to draw any dis- 
tinction between the words of our text, we should call 
the love of natural affection "love with the sou!," the 
love of gratitude "love mth the heart," and the love 
of moral esteem " love with the mind." We are to 
love Gbd, not only becartse He is good to iis, but be- 
cause He is so lovable. And the amiability of God 
consists in His moral perfections, and in the harmony 
of these perfections, and their exact adjustment and 
relations. The beauty of light consists in sucli an 
adjustment of the various rays composing it (such a 
happy mixture between the sombre rays and the 
brighter rays) that light is a perfectly pure and trans- 
parent medium, enables us thoroughly to explore any 
object which is submitted to us, whOe, at the same 
lime, it does not dazzle or pain the eye. If the dark 
rays too much preponderated, we could not see clearly ; 
if there were an undue preponderance of the bright 
rays, we should be dazzled and blinded. Now God 
is said to be Light in Holy Scripture, and the great 
thought brought out by this image is, that two classes 
of moral perfections, Holiness on the one hand, and 
Love on the other, are in Hi a character harmoniously 
Ijlended together. In virtue of God's holiness, or ab- 
l<orrenoe of evil, there is an awfulness about His 
character wbich banishes from Him the wilful sinner, 
while in the reconciled sinner it stirs an emotion not 



it,CoOgk' 



74 Of the various Sentiment'! [cirAP. 

of slavish fear, but of profound abasement. WtHe in 
virtue of God's boundless Love {including tmder that 
term His Mercy and Compassion, as well as His 
Bounty and Benevolence) tbere is an attractiveness 
aboiit His character ■which is calculated to win the 
heart of man even in the"state of deepest moral deg- 
radation. We know that these opposite perfections 
are harmonized in the work of Christ; that in the 
Crctes of Hie Son God is most illustriously seen, ex- 
pressing at once the deepest abhorrence of sin and the 
most intense love for the sinner. But it is more to 
our present purpose to remark how the various attri- 
butes of God arc reflected in the Humanity of Christ, 
who is, as St. Paul tells us, the express Image of 
God's Person. Moral esteem for Christ's character is 
in truth moral esteem for God's character. Should 
we then, let us ask ourselves, by way of ascertaining 
our love for God, have been really attracted by a 
character such as Christ's is represented to have been ? 
Should we have been drawn insensibly into the circle 
of His influence, as the disciples were, by the words 
of grace which hung upon His lips, by the felt im- 
earthliness which His Presence and demeanor shed 
around Him ? Should we have admired the sterner 
as well as the softer side of His character — His ful- 
minations against hypocrisy as well as His tender 
solicitude for, and sympathy with, the fallen ? This 
love of moral esteem toward Christ was the salient 
feature in the religious character of the late Dr. Ar- 
nold, the one thought which colored ail his sentiments 
of devotion. It requires some stamina of character to 
feel this moral esteem for any one. The love which 
arises from natural taction, fi:om gratitude, from 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



VII.] embraced in the Love of God. 75 

sympathy in trouble, from a mere faccy ^vliich can 
give no account of itself, is muoli more comm.on in the 
world than the love of moral esteem. In order to 
esteem worth, there must be worth in him who is to 
show the esteem. And it asks more than mere worth, 
it asks a large measure of grace, to appreciate the 
extraordinary beauty and excellence of Our Blessed 
Lord's character, and to respond to it {as the devout 
man above alluded to responded) with profound, ador- 
ing veneration, 

4. There is yet another kind of love which I must 
mention, because it is a dearly distinct sentiment from 
any of those which we have liitherto reviewed. It is 
the love o£ benevolence — the feeling which prompts 
us to wish good to others, and, as far as in us lies, to 
do \t. A moment's consideration will serve to show 
that this is altogether distinct from the love of moral 
esteem. Grod loves the sinner, even when lying in his 
sins, with the love of benevolence. This Love of 
Benevolence on Gfod's part is the source whence flowed 
to a guiltyworld the blessingsof Redemption. "Gfod 
commendeth His Love toward us," we are told, " in 
that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." 
But it cannot be supposed that God has for sinners any 
love of moral esteem. He who is of purer eyes than 
to behold iniquity cannot regard iniquity with com- 
placency. God's moral estimate of a world lost in sin, 
even while He had it at heart to save them by the 
SaciiiiGe of His Son, is thus painted by the Psalmist: 
" God looked down from Heaven upon the children of 
men, to see if there were any that would understand, 
and seek after God, But they are all gone out of the 
way, they are altogether become abominable ; there 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



76 Of the vanous Sentiments [chap. 

is iiiso aono that doeth good, no not one." And it 
is clear that among men also a feeliog of benevo- 
lence toward miserable and degraded fellow-creatm-es 
may find place, even where there is (and can be) no 
feeling at all of moral esteem. A good man may 
stiive with great earnestness to restore one who lias 
lost his character, aiid to reinstate him in the position 
from which he has fallen, while tlie very fact of the 
object of this kindness having lost character precludes 
all esteem for the present. Then the question arises, 
whether this love of benevolence can be exercised 
toward God ? Surely it may. It has been defined as 
the love whieli prompts good wishes and endeavors 
on behalf of another. Now ought not our hearts to 
be fondly set upon, and our endeavors directed tow- 
ard, God's glory? Should we not long to further 
the inter^ts of Christ by every means in our power ? 
Should we not eagerly push in, wherever there is an 
opening, to promote His cause ? Alas ! it is not a 
question ; there can be no doubt that this spirit should 
animate us all ; there can be no doubt that by this 
spirit wa all profess to be animated, as often as wo 
pray, " Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy kingdom come. 
Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven," But 
putting aside our professions, what ia the real state 
of the case as regards our hearts? How many of us 
can honestly say that our most fervent wishes are em- 
barked in the cause of Christ? There is plenty of 
room, God knows, for the advancement of that cause. 
There ai-e souls steeped in misery, ignorance, and sin, 
all around us. There are good enterprises on foot by 
the hundred, which may be fmihered by our money, 
or, if we have not money to spend, by an espendituvo 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Yii.] emhraoecl in th6 Love of God. 77 

of time and labor. There are heathens abroad, waiting 
to be converted ; aud there are baptized heathens at 
home, waiting to be instructed in their privileges, and 
taught their high vocation. Now, are we occupying' to 
the best of our ability any single comer of this vast 
field of usefulness ? Have we ever seiioiosly said to 
ourselves, " I wish to do something for mj Lord and 
in His interests before I die — I wish to push His 
cause forward in my generation with all the energy I 
can muster?" To say this seriously ia to exercise 
toward Grod, and Christ who ia God, the love of be- 
nevolence. And, until we can in some measure say it 
I we cannot say our Lord's Prayer quite sin- 
j ; for this prayer assuredly implies that God's 
interests are nearer to the petitioner's heart than the 
siipply of his own wants. Oh, this Lord's Prayer, 
what a canon does it supply for testing and correct 
ing our spiritual state I How surely and infalhbly 
does conformity to the spirit of it imply growth in 
grace ! Therefore, Lord, coofomi us more and more 
to its spirit, and 

" Teach ua this, and eTOi-y (lay, 
To livo more nearly as we pvay," 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



78 Of the Affinity hetwe&n God and Man — [chap. 



CHAPTER VJir. 



" In the last day, iJiat great day of (he /eaM, Jesus slood and cried, 
aaying. If arty mon (ftirsf, \a Mm come imio Me, and driA 
JSe that belieeeffi. mt Me, at the Scripture liaHi, aaid, oai 0/ Ms 
belly shaB fiaa rivers of living water." . . . . " Many of tta 
people therefore, ioS*n theg heard this saying, said. Of a troth 
tliis is the Fropliet. OOiers said. This is the Christ." — John yii- 
87, 38, 40, 41. 

THE above weighty saying o£ Our Blessed Lord 
produced among some of His liearers an imme- 
diate conviction that He was the Prophet whom the 
Jews looked for — that he was the Christ, We gather 
from, hence that these words meet some instinct of the 
human heart; that Our Lord, when uttering them, 
struck a note which vibrated in the inmost souls of 
His hearers. Now, what shall we suppose to have 
been the secret of their effect ? 

It was no doubt this, that many of the audience 
(all tliose of them, prohably, in whom there was any 
seriousness or thoughtful ness of character) felt that 
they themselves were in a spiritual sense athirst, that 
there was a craving in the inner man after light, and 
truth, and love, which nothing upon earth met. When, 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



VIII.] Man's Wants and God's Fuhiess. 79 

therefore, the yeiy remarkable Personage, who had 
recently appeared in their midst, stood forth and said, 
" If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink," 
they felt that He was making an offer, of which they 
had need to avail themselves, that His word inter- 
preted the longing of their souls, and held out a hope 
of satisfying it. They arc convinced of His claims, 
by His offering them exactly what they had felt the 
waut of. 

"We have been led, in the course o£ the argument 
of this work, to the subject of the love of God ; and 
we begin by observing that, in order to the existence 
of love between two parties, there must be a eecret 
affinity between them, in virtue of which one supplies 
what the other needs. This is visible in aU the forms 
of human friendship. Friendship by no means seems 
to take root most deeply between persons of aimilar 
characters and sentiments. Rather the contrary as a 
general rule. Friendship is not a monotony, in which 
each of the characters sounds forth the same note ; 
but a harmony, in which two notes are combined, 
which have some relation immediately recognized by 
the ear. Thus it is, to take the most obvious instance, 
in the case of fiiendship between the sexes, to whirh 
the name of love is commonly appropnited The 
general foundation of that iffection is just this, that 
one sex supplies those elements of uhiiactei and feel- 
ing which the other liiis, the man bemi^ formed for 
activity, enterprise, laboi, ind to meet the 1 lunt of 
life ; the woman for enduiance, tenderness, and domes- 
tic duties. It is not, ot course, dissimilarity alone 
which constitutes the tie (dissiiuilanty, iftTi^ dit,svmi- 
lars be not related to one anothef, is only another 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



80 Of the A.ff/tdty between God and Man— [ci-iAr. 

name for discord), but disainiiJaiity of euofa a kind aa 
to make one sex the complement and helpmate of the 
other. The man needs sympathy and confidential 
friendship, which the woman supplies ; the woman in 
her turn needs support, protection, counsel, which it 
is the man's part to furnish. And thus, to accommo- 
date to our purpose the words of the Apostle on a dif- 
ferent subject, the abundance of the one is a supply 
for tbe want of the other, that the other's abundance 
also may be a supply for his want. In short, the 
principle which brings persona together in human 
friendship resembles the principle which lies at the 
foundation of commercial intercourse. A. produces 
what B, wants ; and B. in his turn produces what A. 
wants. This mutual want of one another's produc- 
tions draws together A. and B., and inclines them to 
exchange commodities, and to live near one another 
in mutual interdependence. "Well; it is the same 
with character as with commodities. The characters 
of all want some element which the character of some 
other might supply. When we find that other, and 
are drawn toward him by an instinct which assures us 
that his disposition and qualities are the complement 
of our own — the attraction is cklled inendship or love, 
according as it subsists between persons of the same 
or of different sexes. In either case the seciet of the 
attraction is precisely the same 

We do not speak of friendship among material ob 
jects; but affinities are observable among these, Mhich 
rest upon the same principle of mutual interdepend 
ence. We will take one of theae analogies in the 
lower world, to iUustrate our subiect fuithei Trees 
then, are fed by the air and light ol hei^ ii toulIi n 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



Yin.] Man's Wants and God's Jnclrmss. 81 

the same way as our bodies are kept alive by appro- 
priate sustenaacc. Exclude ali light and air from a 
tree, shut it up in a close and dark chamber, and it 
ivill speedily wither. Bring it forth again into the 
fresh air aad sunlight, and the pores of its leaves will 
drink in the nourishment congenial to them, and seem 
to revive. No two objects can be more dissimilar 
than the tree and the air — the one a solid trunk of wood, 
never shifting from its place, the other a moat subtle 
iuid imperceptible fluid which every wind sets in mo- 
iion. Yet there is a secret affinity between them, 
which makes them necessary to one another, by which 
the two hang together in the marvellous system of 
Nature. The air is charged witJi its gases, by which 
it stimulatea and quickei^ Tegetation. The plants, 
on the other hand, need the circulation of this fluid 
through their veins. The air bestows itself upon the 
plants for their nourishment. The plants, on the other 
hand, make a return to the air, in the shape of tlie 
perfumes which some of them exhale. This is one out 
of many instances of an affinity in Nature, by which 
things mutually supplement one another. It is on a 
similar affinity, higher up in the soale of creation, that 
what we call friendship or love is founded. 

This being premised, we now observe that the 
fact of man's being required in the Holy Scriptures 
to love God, indicates an aflmity between man and 
God, by which man st'uids m urgent need of God, 
and God, too, has need of man, fot the raanifesfation 
of His infinite perfections 

1. First, man, though a poor child of earth, fast 
rooted in this low and filthy soil, has an urgent need 
of God in His natxu-o, just as the tree has a need of 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



82 Of the A^nity belvteen God and Man — [cttap. 

light and air. When this need makes itself felt ia a 
man's consciousness, he then realizes the experience 
of the Psalmist : " My soul is athirst for God, yea, 
even for the living Grod." And he is then arrested 
by, and disposed to listen to, the offer made by tlio 
Son of God ; " If any man thirst, let him come unto 
Me, and drink." 

But let us trace man's need of God more particu- 
larly, and seek to understand in what it consists. 

In a certain sense, of course, all things have need 
of God, in order to their continuance in being and 
in well-being. Ha ia the Preserver as weU aa the 
Creator of all things, and upholds them {in the Per- 
son of the Son) by the word of Hia power. If the 
Heavenly Father ceased to work even for a moment, 
if His energy and the support of His arm were for a 
moment withdrawn, the colors would fade from the 
robe of Nature, and the lights of the firmament would 
be extinguished, and the waters of the earth would 
fail and dry up in their channels, and the vi'hole fabric 
of the univeree would collapse, as an arch falls to 
pieces when the keystone is withdrawn. God is not 
only the ground, but the momentary support, of all 
existence. 

It is clear, however, that the need which man, as 
man, has of God must be something which distin- 
guishes him &om the inferior creation. Inanimate 
and irrational creatures never are, never could be, 
exhorted to love God ; and those who, like men, are 
so exhorted, must have some special affinity to God, 
some special need of Him, in virtue of which the love 
of God becomes for them at once a possibility and 
duty. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



vin.] JHi:(n's Wants and God's Fulness. 83 

In wliat, then, does this special affinity stand ? Con- 
sider tlie craving of man after the Infinite, so that his 
uiiderstaoding is never satisfied i^ith the truth which 
it discovers, nor his appetite with the good that it 
finds in created existence. 

(1) First his understanding is never satisfied with 
the truth which it contrives to reach. The present is 
an age of discovery. The secrets of Nature are more 
and more explored, and yield themselves up, one 
after another, to the scrutiny of man. Now, the point 
to which we call attention at present is the thirst of 
man after knowledge, to whioh this ceaseless scrutiny 
bears witn^s. It is true, indeed, that Arts are founded 
upon the Sciences, and that most of the important dis- 
coveries whioh are made have some bearing upon our 
condition — tend to furnish human life with conven- 
iences, comforts, and luxuries. But it is not only the 
desire of a more comfortable existence, of a better- 
furnished life, which stimulates the discovery. There 
is a nobler stimulus than this behind ; the thirst for 
knowledge which is inbred in the human mind. There 
is nothing more deeply interesting to an intelligent 
man than discovery. It is as if God had proposed 
to us in Nature, in life, in oiir own hearts, certain 
enigmas, and had challenged human ingenuity to the 
solution of them, according to that word of King Solo- 
mon's : " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing : 
but the honor of kings is to search out a matter." 
But observe how, immediately upon a discovery being 
made, it loses its interest, and the vivid colors fade in 
which it was dressed while our minds were making 
it. Truth once established palls upon us; and we 
immediately go in quest of some fresh truth. It 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



84 Of the Affinity between God and Man — [chap. 

would seem that just as the pleasure of hunting is 
not derived from the game which is caught, but from 
the exercise and excitement o£ the pursuit, so it is 
not truth wbicli interests man, or at all events not 
the truth 'which he contrives to reach by his natural 
faculties, but only the quest of it. You see the rest- 
lessness of this quest in the pursuit of religious as 
well as of scientific truth. The inbred curiosity of 
the mind, which desires above all things to know, 
even where it ia effectually precluded froni hnowl- 
edge, has ever been the fruitful source of heresies 
and fantastic speculations. Men eschew the plain 
preceptive parts of the Bible, and its more prominent 
doctrines, which have been sounded in their eara 
from childhood, and have now become to them like a 
popular air, which has had a long run, and has been 
sung at every concert, and hackneyed upon every 
street-organ, till it now haunts the hearer in his 
solitude ; the mind seeks something new, original, 
lively ; and works are written or theories broached 
to meet the demand — new views of unfulfilled Proph- 
ecy (which offers a vast field to the curious), specu- 
lations on the last times and our nearness to thera, 
unhallowed attempts to divest religion of its mys- 
teries, and to make it all plain and level to tlie 
nnderstending. All this ia the natural instinct of 
the human mind to seek truth, running wild, and 
getting out of the groove which Gfod has marked out 
for it to move in. 

But shall we suppose that there is nothing corre- 
sponding to this restless thirst after knowledge in 
the human mind ? Is the mind to fret itself forever 
in the pursuit of truth, and never reach tiie goal of 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



vul] 3Ia7i's Wants and God's I^vhviss. 85 

its desires ? Is there no highest truth, in which the 
understanding may at length acquiesce ? Not so. 
The Holy Scriptures say that God is Light ; and 
again that He ia the Father of lights. Again, they 
say that Christ is the Wisdom of God, and that in 
Him are hid all the treasures of Trisdom and knowl- 
edge. When, therefore, man displays an insatiable 
desire to know, to read the riddle of Nature, the 
riddle of his own life, the riddle of his hereafter, 
he should remind himself that God Himself is tlie 
only satisfaction of this desire, that he has an intel- 
lect formed to receive the Light of God, a Light 
which one day will clear up all mysteries, whether 
of Nature, or of life, or of the future. 

And this Light of God, my reader, you shall enjoy 
in a measure here below, not by any painful straining 
of the reason after truth, but by the entire submission 
of thy will to God's Will, and by the diligent purifi- 
cation of thy heart from all unruly passions. Desires 
and passions cloud the judgment, and shut out tlio 
clear, dry light of TrutL 

(3) But, secondly, man craves after the Infinite 
Good, as well as after the Infinite Truth, and never 
folds it here below. 

This craving after good is attested by the mis- 
chievous excesses of intemperance. What is the in- 
stinct which prompts man to intemperance in its 
viirious forma, which prompts him to invent new deli- 
cacies, new luxuries, and to stimulate the bodily ap- 
petite by all sorts of artificial means? That it is an 
instinct peculiar to him as man is clear. We find no 
intemperance among the lower creatures ; they simply 
siitisly the natural appetite with the food which hap- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



86 Of the Ability between God and Man — [chap, 

pens to bo thrown in their way, but do not injure 
health by oyerfeeding, much less aim at increasing 
the delieiousnesa of the animal gratification by well- 
mixed bowls or highly-flavored condiments. The real 

CO n mtemperance is this, that man has not only 
an mi ol 1 ut a rational appetite to satisfy ; by the 

n ti ti n of his mind ho thirsts after a g-ood which 
h find n no created object. ITie instinct, misdi- 
1 1 y he Fall, goes astray. Having a hungry 
JIT 1 akes a desperate effort to extract from 
bodily enjoyments that which may appease its crav- 
ings. He imposes upon the body a double tax, to 
meet the demands of the spirit, if possible, as well as 
its own demands. But the body resembles a people 
in this respect ; it is impoverished and enfeebled by 
undue and excessive taxation. It will meet the de- 
mands of its own animal appetites readily enough, 
and be none the wrse for the payment ; but the ad- 
ditional demands of the spint's hunger it cannot bear. 
Accordingly, it breaks down under them. Premature 
decay is the almost certain consequence of intemperate 



But there are more lefined wa>s in which men en- 
deavor to satisfy the cr^'i ing of their immortal spirits 
after good. They seek adranation The est«em of a 
little narrow circle in then umnediate neighborhood ; 
preSminenco of whatever sort, whether of abiHty, or 
positicm, or of mere worldly weilth ; the flattering 
speeches which are a sort of homage to superiority — 
how dear are these things to the soul ! Not that the 
soul rests in them ; having tasted them, it immediately 
craves for new enjoyments ; it is after a wider reputa- 
tion, a higher preeminence, a more refined and less 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Till.] Man's Wams and O-od's Fulness. 8'? 

palpable flattery. The best iovm of earthly good, ivith 
which the spirit seeks to satisfy its hunger, is that of 
human sympathy. It makes idola of the natural affec- 
tions — plants for itself, as far as it can, a domestic and 
a social Paradise. The unfortunate point here is, that 
the trees of the Paradise, like Jonah's gourd, are apt 
to be smitten by the earthworm of death. And, in- 
dependently of their being so smitten, we may cer- 
tainly say that no mere natural affection can satisfy 
the craving of the human heart after love. Nothing 
is found on earth commensurate to that craving; no 
fellow-creature can fill the void. But the Creator can. 
Do we long after a joyous exhilaration of the spirit, 
which, as an exuberant mounting flood, shall tide us 
over the difficulties of our career ? The Holy Spirit 
iy the source of this inward joy, as it is written, " Be 
not drunk with wine, wherein is excess ; but be filled 
with the Spirit." Do we thirst after esteem and ad- 
mh'ation? Human esteem is but a taper: the real 
sunlight of the soul is the smile of God's approbation, 
making itself felt there. Is preeminence our aim ? He 
is the Fountain of Honor; and the dignities of His 
Kingdom are bestowed on those who are least and 
lowest in their own esteem. Do we long, with an un- 
quenchable longing, for sympathy ? He is Love ; and, 
in virtue of the Incarnation, He can be touched with 
the feeling of our infirmities; and death, so far from 
breaking off our intercourse with Him, admits us into 
His more immediate Presence, and cements that com- 
munion, which it is the joy and delight of renewed 
hearts to hold ivith Him here below. 

Such, then, are man's two great wants, viewed as 
an immortal spirit — a want of the Infinite Truth, and 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



88 Of the Afffnity between God and Man— [chap. 

the want of the Infinite Good, a want of Light and a 
want of Love. These wants are forever making them- 
selves felt in the human consdousness in various forms. 
Man is like a noble tree planted in tiie eaith, which 
can live only by drinking in the air and sunlight of 
Heaven. The Fall has walled him up in a dark en- 
closure of selfishness and sensuality ; hut, as he cannot 
live without light and warmth, he tries to expand his 
branches toward certain wretched tapers, which are 
burning in the interior. But they are never enough 
for him. Without the sun he cannot thrive, " His 
soul is athirat for God." 

3, But we said that the groimd of all love is the 
mutual dependence of the parties, between whom it 
subsists, on one another. Does God, then, in any sense 
depend upon man ? Is man in any sense necessary 
to God ? Necessary in this sense, only, as a field of 
display for the Divine Perfections. We are to con- 
ceive of God as an exuberant, full-charged Ocean o£ 
Truth, and Goodness, and Mei y dy t p r itself 
over into the creatures, as rec pta 1 f fulness, 
God longs and loves to give, t m to bless 

— it is the great feature of Hi> j f t He longa 

to surround Himself with int Ihg t 1 ppy joyous 
creatures, and to lavish upon th U th sources 
of His Infinite Goodness. And here we may catch a 
glimpse of the reason why evil was permitted. In the 
heart of God was a fund of merey and tenderness, 
which, by the very perfection of His Nature, Ho 
longed to expend, but could find no scope for the ex- 
ercise of it, except by the a^^mission of evil into His 
universe. To be bounteous to creatures still retaining 
their integrity — oh ! this is a very inadequate effect 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



vni.] Mali's JVimte and God's Fulness. 89 

of Gocl's goodness. He can be bounteous, fatherly, 
nil t<,lj lo ng a to the nthaokful. and the evil 
— t tl e nie tl e d g ded il e abominable ; this is 
1 e ^ eat glory of Hia cbaracter, which the Grospel 
1 s unveile I i 1 expose 1 to the gaze of poor fiillen 
m B t laercj never co Id have poured itself 

h ha 1 the e i ot been vessels of mercy to receive 
And ves els of maey oonld never have existed, 
1 1 tl e p been no transgress on — for righteous crea- 
t cs ee 1 no n ercy We n ay certainly, therefore, 
J, ize b tween Cod and man a natural reciprocity, 
1 h mak s min ne essary to Grod in something of 
th ame sense -is in object of charity is necessary 
i a 1 beral an 1 It, ge heirted donor, deeply touched 
1 the d stre ses of Ins fellow-men. Suoli a one 
a not s t at ho e an 1 la) himself in luxury ; there 
1 1 se t n e t of nj s on n his heart, wliich drives 
1 n to the CO irts and tlleys to seek out objects of 
r 1 et In 1 ke m nner Grod s fulness of compassion 
nd 1 ounty Ir ves Hun to tl e supply of man's ueces- 
s He a tl e o ly Be nt, who can satisfy those 
I p vints of tl e soul And fi'om His intrinsic good- 
ness He longs to satisfy them. 

My readers, have you been ever brought, by reflec- 
tion upon your own experience, to the conclusion that 
your immortal spirit cannot be satisfied by any con- 
tentment which earth has to offer ? Then, when Grod 
is announced to you as Light and Love, you cannot 
but see a suitability in the message, which commends 
it to your reason ; your heart cannot but give back an 
echo, when this view of God first dawns on your ap- 
in'ehension, as the chords of Memnon's atatue gave 
forth a musical sound, when it was smitten "with tho 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



90 Of the Affinitj/ between God and Man, etc. [chap. 

early sunbeam. It was no doubt an experience of this 
Itind which, many o£ the people -went through, when 
Our Lord uttered in their hearing that sublime invita- 
tion ; "If any man tiiirst, let him come unto Me, and 
drink." They were conscious of a thirst in the depths 
of their spirit ; and He who offered thus solemnly to 
quench it must be God's Ambassador, charged 'with 
a message for them — must be the Prophet and the 
Christ indeed. — But an ambassador only I Surely He 
claims a prerogative beyond this. Let us hear Him. 
again. " If any man thirst, let him come " (not unto 
My Father, but) "unto Me, and dtinlt." Ho Himself 
it is, who undertakes to quench the soul's deep thirst 
for Light and Love, Can ho be less than the Infinite ? 
J£ we could suppose Him' for a moment to be less, 
would not His words be an arrogant blasphemy? 
Most clear it is that He who speaks thus is God over 
all blessed forever. And if you will come to Him, 
my reader, laying aside utterly all self-righteousness 
and all self-will, you shall know by experiment that 
the large pretensions which He here makes are no vain 
boasts. He shall give you the water whereof whoso- 
ever drinketh shall never thirst ; and it shall be in you 
" a well of water, springing up into everlasting life." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



ly.] Of the Filial lielation of Man to God, etc. 01 



CHAPTER TX. 



" Gi>r3,said, Lei lis make man in. our image, after <mr likeness." — 

IT vras man's prerogative, alone of all the creatures, 
to be made "in, Grod's image, after God's like- 
ness." This image and likeness man possesses in vir- 
tue of his being a son of God — a name whioh is never 
given to the lower creatures. There is always a like- 
ness (either in feature, or in mind, or in both) between 
parents and children, which is the result of the child's 
being drawn out of the parents, and, being, in fact, a 
part of them. And what is the cause of the likeness 
of aU men one to another — their likeness in the load- 
ing sentiments and affections of their nature, which 
the wise man touches upon, when he says, "As in 
water Saee answereth to face, so the heart of man to 
man ? " la it not this, that we had all " one father " 
originally ; are all drawn out of Adam by natural gen 
oration ? Hence it is that heart beats responsive to 
heart in every clime, and that such poets i-, Shd,ke 
speare and Burns, who poitnv hum-in piisions in the 
fresh, simple colors of Natuie, areappieciatednot onlj 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



93 Of the Filial Relation of Man to GocJ, [chap. 

ill this country, but wlierever their language ia under- 
stood. The likeness follo'wa in the train of a brother- 
hood, or, wbich is the same thing, of a conrnion. fa- 
therhood. 

We traced in our last Chapter the correspondence 
between God and man, in regard to man's cravings 
after the Infinite Truth and the Infinite Good, and 
Gtod'a fulness. We saw that God, being both Light 
and Love, is the only object suited to man'a needs 
and desires. We now trace an affinity of a different 
character subsisting between these two parties, in re- 
gard of niEin's special litenesa to God, which ia the re- 
sult of liis filial relation. It is because man is a son 
of God, although a lost and a prodigal son, that he is 
capable of loving Htm, and is exhorted to do so. Let 
us notice the reserablauces to God which still linger 
in fallen Human Nature, and prove this aonship. 

Man, then, resembles God in the constitution of 
his nature and in his natural powers, 

1. In the constitution of Jda nature. — It ia well 
known that the word us in the fiat for the creation of 
man {" Let ua make man in our image, after our like- 
ness") refers to the plurality of Persons in the God- 
head. Man is to be made, therefore, according to the 
words of tliis fiat, in the Image of the Trinity in Unity. 
If you loolc into the constitution of his nature, you 
may expect to find there a three in one, and a one in 
three. And this ia what you do find. Holy Scripture 
teaches ua that there are three (not two) elements in 
Human Nature, "body, soul, and spirit." St, Paul 
recognizes the three in that prayer of liis for his Thes- 
salonian converts : " Now the very Grod of peace sanc- 
tify you wholly ; and I pray God your whole spirit 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



IX.] upon vldch tha Low of (rod i$ fuimdeil. 93 

and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the 
coming of our Lord Jesus Christ," I'he distiQctioa 
between these three elements of our nature is very 
clear, and generally admitted. By " the body " is to 
be understood the mass of matter which we carry 
about with us, with all the yarious animal properties 
that belong to it. Ilunger and thirst are appetites 
of the body ; nouriahment and growth are processes 
which take place in it. Observe, too, that the body 
is the organ of the will, and the exponent of the char- 
acter. When a man acts or epealcs, his wiU sets his 
body in motion. And it is usually thought that, in 
his physiognomy and general appearance, there is 
something which betokens his disposition. By "the 
soul " we understand what, in our modem phrase, is 
more commonly called " the mind," ' It is the mind 
wliieh draws lessons from experience or from the 
senses, which reasons, thinks, forms conclusions from 
facts submitted to it. He who works a mathematical 
or geometrical problem works it with bis mind, with 
the purely intellectual element of his nature ; it must 
be quite clear that neither the body nor the religious 
faculty has any share whatsoever in the operation. 
By "the spirit," in Scripture phraseology, is to be un- 
derstood that faculty by which man holds coimnunion 

' It is quite possible that I have not drawn corrcotly tko dis- 
dnclion between " soul" and " spirit." But suffice it that my dis- 
tinction is a poilpable one. Ereu if incornjct, it does not invalidato 
the argument, . Mau'a nature is, according to the Apostle, trlpui'- 
titfl, however you esplain the thi'oefold division; and ia other 
passages a very sliarp distinction ia drawn between " tb.e soul " 
and " the spirit." This tripartite nsfura is a vesligs in him 0/ 
the Imago of God, in Whose Niituro there is a Trinity in Unity. 



Ho;-dt,CoOgk' 



94 Of the Filial Relation of Man to God, [chap, 

with God, The religious inatinct, which prompts tim 
in the blindness of his natural heart, to worship any 
thing which presents itself as beneficial or wonderful 
■ — sun, moon, and stars, or even the ounningly-wrought 
works of hia own hands — and which, under the guid- 
ance of Revelation, drives him to the throne o£ grace, 
and makes him pant after Gfod as the hart after the 
water brooks ; this is that faculty which goes under 
the nimo of " the spirit," "When a man prays (really 
ind smceiely), he prays with the spirit, according to 
those wcids of the Apostle: "I will pray with the 
tipint, and I wOl pray with the understanding also." 
Now, the distinction of these three processes, hunger- 
ing, reasoning, praying, must be obvious to all Yet 
it is one and the same man who embraces them, all in 
the unity of his own consciousness, who may say of 
himseK at different periods, I hungered, I reasoned, 
I prayed. And it is true. The same being who re- 
ceives food at one time, at another lifts up his soul to 
God, at another woriis the problem. Here, then, you 
find in the nature of man, the son of God, a constitu- 
tion which shadows forth, so far as earthly things can 
shadow forth Leavenly, the nature of the Most High, 
We are told that we may not confound the Persons in 
the Blessed Trinity; that the Father, the Son, and 
the Holy Spirit, are distinct — as distinct as the spirit 
is from the soul, and the soul from the body. More- 
over, we read in Holy Scripture that God created 
all things by Jesus Christ, using the Son as His in- 
strument in the creation of the world ; and that His 
Son is " the effulgence of His glory, and the express 
image of His Person," Similarly the body, as we 
have seen, is the organ by which the will of man acts. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



IS.] upon which the Xove of God is founded. 95 

and the exponent of his character. Moreover, in the 
Holy Trinity " we acknowledg'o each Person by Hini- 
Belf to be God and Lord," even as, in the human trini- 
ty, we call the spirit the man, the soul the man, the 
body the man, indifferently. Yet, notwithstanding 
their distlHction, they are not three Gods, but one 
God; just as it is not a different, but the same man, 
who is conscious now of himgering, now of reasoning, 
now of praying. There is indeed a great and unfath- 
omable mysteiy in the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, 
or (in other words) in the constitution of the Divine 
Nature, which we must receive without for a moment 
attempting to fathom it. But while we find in the 
constitution of our own nature a mystery equally in- 
soluble, who shall cavil at this requirement ? WliUe 
I find in mj^elf an intellectual being, a rcHgious be- 
ing, and a being th 1 j t f animal appetites, and 
yet Icnow that each f tl b gs is my own true 
self, and that all 3 b dp ntheunity of one con- 
sciousness, shall I n t put my h d upon my mouth, 
and lay my mouth n th d t when God requires me 
to believe somethu ^ f tl am Idnd (at all events 
not more mysterious) respe b His I ifi te Nature ? 
And shall I not recognize i ml the image 

and after the likeness of G 1 th g ture of the 
Triune Jehovah, and bless th d n and grace 

of Him, who hath made us h d forth His 

lineaments upon earth, and t 1 H only those 

who are sons can be required to love ? 

3, But, secondly, man resembles God in his natUr- 
ral powers, both ifiieUectttai and moral. 

a. As regards his intellectual powers, consider 
that man is, like God, a creator. Works of Ai-t, 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



96 Of the JMial Relation of Man (o God, [chap. 

■whether usefiil or ornamental, are, and are often called, 
creations. How mai)Ubld are the new discoveries, 
the new inventions, which man draws forth, year after 
year, from, his creative genius — the time-piece, the 
microscope, the steamship, the steam-carriag'e, the 
sun-picture, the eleotrio telegraph I All these things 
ori^nally lay wrapped up in the human brain, and 
are its offspring. Look at the whole iabric of civiliza- 
tion, which is built up by the several arts. What a 
creation is it, how curious, liow varied, how wondei"- 
fiol in all its districts ! Just as God has Hia Universe, 
in which are mirrored the eternal, archetypal Ideas of 
the Divine Mind, so this civilization is Man's universe, 
the aggregate product of his intelligence and activity. 
It may possibly suggest itself here that some of the 
lower animals are producers no less than man. And 
BO they are, in virtue of the instinct with which the 
Almighty has endowed them. The bird is the artisan 
of her nest, the bee of his cell, the beaver of bis hut. 
But they are artisans only, worldng by a rule furnished 
to them, not architects, designing out of their own 
mental resources. They are producers only, not crea- 
tors ; they never make a variation, in the way of im- 
provement, on foregone productions; and we argue 
conclusively that because they do never make it, they 
can never make it. Instinct dictates to them, as they 
work, " line upon line, precept upon precept ; " but 
there is no single instance of their rising above this 
Jevel— of their speculating upon an original design, 
and contriving the means whereby it may be carried 
into effect. But the creative faculty of man is still 
more evident in the ornamental arts, because here, 
more obviously than in the useful, man works accord- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



IX.] upon whioh the Love of G od is founded. 91 

iiig to no preconceived method or imposed condition, 
but throws out of his brain that which is new and 
original. A new melody, a new drama, a new pic- 
ture, a new poem, are they not all (some more, some 
less, in proportion to the originahty of the conception 
which is in them) creations ? Is not this the very 
meaning of the word "^Oism," in the language from 
whioh it is drawn — a thing made, a piece of work- 
manship ? So that, in respect of the rich and varied 
developments of the human mind in the different forms 
of Art, we need not hesitate to call man a creator. 
And this is the first aspect under which God is pre- 
sented to us in Holy Scripture: "In the beginning 
God CREATED the heaven and the earth," 

5. Then as to moral powers. The free-will of 
man, involving, as it does, a reason which is capable 
of balancing the grounds of a moral choice, a reason 
which can look into the future, and set an eternal 
recompense over against present pain — this wiU, 
which nothing can compel into obedience without 
destroying its nature ; this wiO, which is capable of 
an intelligent, a princely, and a generous obedience, 
the grounds of which it understands, and the rea- 
sons of which it inwardly affirms ; this will, which not 
only is capable of moving in accordance with the 
Law, but which, while it does so, echoes from its 
inmost depths that "the Law is holy, and just, and 
good"' — this free-will is unquestionably a strong 
feature of the mind of our Heavenly Father, com- 
municated to us His rational children Foi He, too, 
directs all His actions "according to the counsiJ oi 
His own will "—with a perteLt and w ise foieaight of 
results. His will indeed, most unlike ouib, i-^ L%er in 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



98 Of the Filial Bclation of Man to God, [chap. 

hannony with the eternal Rule of Bight and Truth. 
Yet he is laid imder no constraint, He is impelled by 
no necessity ; but His will is ceaselessly infiuencod 
by the sponianeous, generous emotions of an Infinite 
Love. 

And here a word may be usefully said, bearing 
upon our mode of acquitting ourselves in the hour of 
temptation. Some divines, by way of exalting the 
grace of God, are apt to throw into the shade the 
free-will of man ; and, so long as the case of the obe- 
dient is alone contemplated, the teaching of such 
divines has, at all events, a specious appearance, and 
may defend itself by alleging a righteous horror of 
attributing too much to the efforts of man. But, 
when we come to the case of the disobedient, what is 
the tendency of views which detract from the free- 
dom of the human will ? Is it not to make the sin 
excusable ? to represent the force of passion as hav- 
ing been equivalent to compulsion, and our own un- 
willingness to make a stand as having been inabiiity ? 
And has no thought of this kind ever crossed ua at 
tiie very moment when it most behooved such thoughts 
to be absent— in the balancings of the mind, before 
we have consciously yielded to a temptation ? Have 
we never, at, that time, gladly entertained the sus- 
picion, " Well, I am hardly a free agent ; for this 
strong current of corrupt desire virtually lays a ne- 
cessity upon me?" And would it not Lave been 
better, and might it not have been blessed to our de- 
liverance in that hour, if we had considered the origi- 
nal nobleness of om" own nature, in virtue of the free, 
independent, self-determining will with which the 
Creator has endowed us ? Let us be assured that, in 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



IX.] upon which the Love, of God is founded. 99 

asserting the supremacy o£ this will against present 
enjoyment or immediate advantage, lies oiir true 
dignity, and that tlie Image of Grod cannot otherwise 
be restored in iia iallen creatures than by the will's 
recognizing its own perfect freedom, and spurning 
away Srom it the allurements o£ sense and of the 

Thus \n. haio ti ittd the reserabhnce < f mm to 
God in respect both ot the c ■>nstitution ot hi^ niture 
and of his natnril ftunilties Thia resemblince, as I 
have befoie remarked, is the effect of the filial rela 
tion in which man, as man, stands to God I say 
man, as man, because it is quite ob^^ou3 that the 
resemblances we haie tiaced are to be found equally 
in every mghiber of the hum^n family, whethei Chns 
tian or heathen, whether engrafted into the Church 
or beyond her pale. All have the threefold element 
— body, soul, and spirit — in their nature ; all have a 
mind which is potentially (if not actually) creative; 
all alike are endowed with free-will, and the power 
of moral choice. And here a difSculty may arise in 
some minds, which seems i^ lie in the way of what 
has been said, Are we not told, it may be asked, 
that " we are the children of God hy faith in Christ 
Jestisf" Do we not instruct our children that in 
Baptism " they are made members of Christ, children 
of Giod, and inheritors of the KiDgdom of Heaven ? " 
And how is this consistent with our being children 
originally, before the reception of Baptism, before the 
exercise of faith f The answer ]s very simple, Man, 
though a son of God in virtue of the original platform 
of his nature, has by sin turned his back upon his 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



100 Of the FUial Belaiion of Man to God, [chap. 

home, and, thus moving His Father's holy indigna- 
tion, has become " a child of wrath," This fall and 
forfeiture of all domestic privilege having taken 
place, God in mercy proposes to reconstitute Hia 
family, alienated from Him by sin, on a new basis. 
His own Son takes flesh, that He may be the Head 
of this family, makes simple atonement for the sins of 
every man, and merits by a life of perfect righteous- 
ness the acceptance of all. Then it is announced to 
the world that all have, by the admission of evil into 
their nature, forfeited their original position in the 
family of God, but that this position through gra«e is 
now again thrown open to all. The children of men 
are exhorted by belief and by Baptism to unite them- 
selves to Him, in whom the family is reconstituted, 
and united to Him to become sons and Keirs of God 
— the destiny for which man had been created, but to 
which he proved untrue. But the very call implies, 
if you consider it closely, an affinity with God on the 
part of the persons called— an affinity overlaid (it may 
be) with sin, and ignorance, and error, but still sub- 
sisting in the groundwork of their nature. They are 
called to the fruition and enjoyment of God— as the 
Scriptures express it, " to His kingdom and glory." 
Can any one be called to this enjoyment who has no 
capacity for it? Could a stone, or a vegetable, or an 
animal, be called to share God's kingdom? Then 
man must have a capacity for this high enjoyment. 
And what ^ves him this capacity? His having been 
made originally for the kmgdom; his having been 
created for sonship. His nature, it is true, has be- 
come by the Fall a ruin, an imsightly heap of rubbish, 
in which venomous reptiles lodge, and which is foul 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



IX.] t/^on whiaJh iM Love of God isfoimded. 101 

with tlio grecnnoaa of decay; but it is no less true 
that, ■when the rubbish is swept away, you may find 
in that nature the ground-plan of the Divine Image. 
We are not now spealdng of the moral or spiritual 
attainments of our Nature, hut of its consOtution and 
capaiiHties. 

■Reader, one of the earliest steps toward the love 
of God is to meditate often and deeply on His Father- 
hood, and on the filial relation in which we stand to 
Him, This of itself is sufficient to stir in the heart an 
emotion of love toward Him, and a desire (oh, if we 
had but strength to bring it to good effect 1) to return 
from our wanderings, and to find a home and a rest in 
His Bosom. But if such be the effect of thinldng of 
the bare relationship which subsists between God and 
us, how powerfully must such an effect be seconded 
by taking into account the maimer in which Gfod has 
proved His strong paternal feeling for us ! If He is 
simply announced to us as the Father of our spirits, 
our hearts respond. But when He is presented to us 
as the Gospel presents Him — when we are assured 
that his Love was so true, so dinging, that even when 
we were in the depths of our degradation and ruin, 
fighting against Him with all the force of our will, He 
gave His only begotten Son to be the propitiation for 
our sins, parted with Him for a time, that He might 
undergo for us a death of most cruel pain and shame ; 
then indeed the sentiment of love to Him becomes 
something more than a sentiment, begins to claim for 
itself a supremacy over the will, and to establish itself 
as a principle of action. God grant it may be so 
with you and me 1 It is a poor and cheap thing to 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



103 The Filial Rdation of Man to God, etc. [coAr. 

hear of the Love of God (and a poorer and cheaper 
to speak of it) without a heart in some measure 
kindled, or at least loBging to be kindled thereby. 
Pray we, therefore, with our Church : " O God, who 
haat prepared for them that love Thee such good 
things as pass man's understanding; pour into our 
hearts such love toward Thee, that we, loving Thee 
above all things, may obtain Thy promises, which 'ex- 
ceed all that we can desire; through Jesus Christ our 
Lord. Amen." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



X.] Of the Way in wMoh God has made, etc. 103 



CHAPTER X. 

05' THE WAY IN WHICH GOD HAS MADE THE PKE- 
CEPT OF DlVHOi tOTB PIIACTICAISLI; TO US BSf THE 
IKCABTTATION. 

" Iti (7ib( Aoffl seeit Me Iiaih aeeii the Mithfr." — John sit. 9. 

IT has been shown in the preceding Chapters that 
Gtod's infinite fulness corresponds to man's deep 
wants, and that man stands to God in the relationship 
o£ a son to a father. Whenever God is truly repre- 
sented to man, this correspondence, this relationship, 
subsisting still in the groundwork of human nature, 
though covered and hidden by the rubbish of sinful 
and worldly lusts, wakens up an echo from the heart 
— an echo which says, however confusedly and indis- 
tinctly, " Yerily, Thou art my Father." 

It must be admitted, however, that this echo, the 
result of the correspondence and relationship aforesaid, 
is of itself and by itself more o£ a sentinient than of a 
principle. Let us understand the difference. A sen- 
timent is a right and pure feeling on a moral or re- 
ligious subject, which does not (or rather need not) go 
beyond feeling, which need not determine the will, 
or exert any decided influence over the character. 
Right sentiments mate a man more amiable, without 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



104 Of the Way imohich God has made tfte [cTiAp. 

necessarily making him a better man. Thej render 
him an object of complacency, and perhaps o£ com- 
passion, while they do not necessarily reform bim. A 
principle, on the other hand, if it have something less 
of tenderness and of poetry, has more hardness of re- 
solve than a sentiment, has a stronger element of the 
will in it. Now, it is quite clear that, if the love of 
Grod is to exert over «s a praotioal influence (and, un- 
less it does this, it certainly can be of no avail in tlie 
matter of our salvation), it must become a settled 
principle of character within ns. A fine and gener- 
ous emotion, if it be nothing more than emotion, how 
will it ever struggle with the manifold corruptions of 
a heart " deceitful above all things, and d^perately 
wicked ? " how wOl it ever renew a nature which, in 
its first germ and rudiment, is depraved, a nature 
" shapen in wicbedue^ and conceived in sin ? " Such 
emotion would be as if a little tongue of earthly flame 
had been applied to Elijah's sacrifice, after it had been 
steeped in water three times. The flame might have 
played for a moment on the victim and tJie wood, but, 
finding every material soaked, upon which it could 
naturally kindle, woidd have collapsed ; would never 
have prevailed, as did Grod's lightning from heaven, 
against " the wood, and the stones, and the dust," or 
have "Hcked up the water that was in the trench." 

The powerlessness of the love of God, considered 
as a mere sentiment, consists very mainly in the in- 
definiteness of the Object of love. "No man hath 
seen God at any time." It is not merely that we 
have not seen Him with our bodily eyes, it is not 
merely that an image of Jehovah was never painted 
upon mortal retina ; but no finite mind has (apart irom 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



X.] J*recept of Divine Love practicable to us. 105 

Christ) a definite conception of the Divine character. 
" God is Light," and " God is Love " — these are blessed 
and precious truths ; hut if these assurances stood 
alone, if no other exhibition of God had been made to 
us than what is conveyed in descriptions of this sort, 
there would have been room for the remark that Light 
and Love are mere abstractions, and abstractions are 
powerless over the character and will of man. Were 
it not for the exhibition which He has made of Him- 
self in Christ, we could only conceive of God as of an 
aggregate of abstractions ; that is to say, we draw a 
notion of goodness, mercy, justice, love, truth, holiness, 
from our own little sphere and onr own limited expe- 
rience, and to the sum total of these notions we give 
the name of Giod, Add to this that the idea, when 
we have formed it, however captivating it may be, is 
not free from oontradicliona, perplexities, and myste- 
ries insoluble. To state one of these perplexities. If 
God is to become an object of attraction to the human 
heart, we must think of Him. as endowed with affec- 
tions and sympathies. But what does affection, what 
does sympathy mean, as it exists in the Divine Na- 
ture ? We know not, nor in our present state can we 
know. On the one hand, we cannot imagine God to 
be the subject of those turbulent, restless, and disqui- 
eting emotions which we call passions ; for this w^ould 
be to represent Him to ourselves as imperfect, and to 
detract from His infinite blessedness. Yet we have 
no notion of passions and affections but such as is 
drawn from our own nature and experience ; and thus 
we must cither bo content to tliink of God as nioved 
by these (which we see clearly to be wrong), or must 
think of Him as passionless (which perhaps would be 

Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



106 Of the Way in which God has made the [chap, 

worse practically, even if more correct theoretically). 
For, according to iiie constitution o£ ouc nature, it 
■would be impossible to fix our affections on a wooden 
God, touched by no sympathy, and susceptible of no 
emotion. — Again, in thinting of Giod, we are forming 
an idea of the Infinite ; and the Infinite transcends all 
thought and bafBes all conception. If we indulge in 
speculations on such a subject, we shall soon be daz- 
zled and blinded, and forced to confess that " clouds 
and darkness are round about" the great Object which 
we investigate. In short, the perfections and nature 
of God are to the human understanding what the sun 
in his full meridian splendor is to the human eye. No 
eye can look upon the sun in his strength without 
being blinded. Excess of light would superinduce 
darkness. And the reason of man, as infirm in the 
world of ideas as the eye is ia the world of matter, 
cannot gaze steadily upon God's perfections -without 
being confounded ; can only catch some rays of His 
light, as they come to us refracted through the earthly 
atmosphere which surrounds ua. " No man hath seen 
God at any tima" So that if God had never been 
made fl.esh, and dwelt among us, the sentiment of Di- 
vine love must have been the most uncertain, indefi- 
nite, and confused of sentiments, utterly unable to 
render an account of itself, and much more to establish 
a permanent empire in the soul 

But (blessed be His Name for having thus fecili- 
tated His love to us !) the Word of God — He who 
had already revealed the Infinite in the works of Cre- 
ation — did take flesh, appeared upon earth in oui 
nature, and was found in fiishion as a man. And now 
observe the relation in which our nature stands to the 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



X.] Precept of Divine Love practicable to us. 107 

Divine in the mj'atery of the Holy lacaniation. It 
becomes a medium through which men may look upon 
God — look upon Him with their bodily eyes (the holy 
Apostles did so), look upon Him also with their un- 
derstandings, and with the eyes of their affections. 
We should effectually defeat our own object, If, by 
way of gaining more Imowledge on the subject of 
light, we should gaae on the sun in his strength. But 
we may gain a knowledge of sunlight indirectly. We 
may interpose a medium between the sun's rays and 
our eyes. The optical instrument called the prism 
explains to us the properties and constitution of lights 
So does the natural object called the rainbow. In the 
prism and in the rainbow we see light analyzed, broken 
up into its component elements ; and we then imder- 
stand and see (without any injury or straining to the 
eye) that light consists of several rays, some of a bright 
and some of a sombre hue, which raya are the source 
of all the fair colors wherewith the robe of Nature is 
decked. Now, the humanity of Our blessed Lord, a 
holy, harmless, undeiiled humanity, conceived of the 
Holy Ghost, and born of the Virgiu Mary, is to the 
perfections of the Divine Nature exactly what the trans- 
parent prism, and the pure raindrops, are to the sun — 
a medium of exhibition. In the humanity of our Lord 
we can study the character and perfections of the 
Most High, without presumption,, and at the same 
time without mistake. He represents Grod to us, 
puts God before us, with a vividness and a definiteness, 
which we could never gain from any description, how- 
ever graphic and however just, God is made in Christ. 
i£ I may so speak with reverence, level to our appre- 
hensions and our sympathies. Level to <mr a 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



108 Of the Way in whioh God has made tlm fcoAP. 

sions. The Infinite has taken a finite nature like oui 
own, and a finite nature like our own we can easily 
conceive of. Here is no abstract idea of perfection, but 
an actual, breathing embodiment of it, One who Kved, 
and toiled, and suffered, a real man among men, who 
encountered all aorte of characters and incidents, and 
in every such encounter demeaned Himself with an 
admirable wisdom, sanctity, and love. We are not 
left to hypothesis as to God's sentimenta upon human 
life, its scenes, and the personages who act in them ; 
we see God Himself an actor in these scenes, coming 
athwart these personages, and delivering Himself on 
each occasion in sentiments the very tones of which 
arfc unearthly. Here, too, you find (in the humanity 
of Our Lord) the reconciliation of the apparent con- 
tradictions between mercy and righteous wrath. On 
the one liand, no amount or measure of moral degra- 
dation shuts out a sinner from His sympathy, or 
checks for an instant the outflow of His Divine com- 
passion. The robber, the outlaw, the harlot, the 
adulteress — He has no word of severity for them as 
such, so long as they take shame to themselves for 
the evil that is in them, and welcome the glad tidings 
which He brings to them of a Father's love and pity. 
But there is another and a severe side to His charac- 
ter, whenever He comes across a want of truth, a dis- 
sembling of convictions, a hypocritical make-believe 
of rehgion, an outward homage without the submis- 
sion of the will. The hoUowness of Pharisaism al- 
ways draws forth from His lips' one loud, reiterated, 
sustained " Woe ! " Whence we gather the senti- 
ments of God toward sin, and learn to adjust Divine 
severity with Divine goodness. The love of Gfod 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



X.] JPrecept of Dimne Love- iwacticabU to us. 109 

freely embraces all, however low they have fallen, who 
willingly take up th'eir position as sinners, caring lit- 
tle or nothing- for the outpointed finger o£ human 
BOom. But want of truth in all its forms, insincerity, 
hypocrisy, parade and demonstration of religious feel- 
ing, in short, any sacrifice which men do to the opinion 
of their fellow-creatures, is offensive to Him in the 
highest degree, and incompatible with His friendship. 
Such are God's sentiments toward sin, as our Lord 
Jesus has expounded them. — And again, God is in 
C/trist level to our sympathies. There were emotions 
in Our Lord's human heart sundry and manifold, emo- 
tions of compassion, warm friendship, patriotism, zeal, 
righteous indignation, which are to be regarded by us, 
in virtue of the union subsisting between His human- 
ity and the GJodhead, not merely as affections inci- 
dental to our nature, but as conveying and representing 
to us what there is in the heart of God. Divine affec- 
tions must ever (as I have remarked) be an insoluble 
mystery to us ; but this is certain, that there is in the 
Divine Nature something which corresponds to, and 
passion and affection in ourselves — 
5 which, looked at through the medium of 
humanity, ie passion and affection. We need not 
fear to conceive of God as stirred by the same pure 
and holy emotions which stirred the heart of Our 
Lord. It Is the nearest approach our finite minds can 
make to Uie absolute truth. 

Thus, then, by means of the Incarnation, God has 
reduced Himself to the level of human apprehensions 
and human sympathies. He gives us in Christ a 
definite object, upon which all our sentiments of 
love, loyalty, veneration, affection, may fiisten ; yet 

Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



110 Of the Way in which God has made the [chap. 

■without fear of idolatry, inasmuch as this object ie 
Diviaa To conceive of Christ is' to conceive of Grod; 
and to love Christ is to love Grod ; for he that hath 
seen Christ hath seen the Father. Oh, let us adore 
His infinite condescension, who not only lays down 
this as the first and great commandment of His law, 
" Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, 
and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind," and 
thus seets to persuade the will into compliance not by 
menaces of authority, but by the amiable attractions 
of love ; but who also, knowing Himself to be (in the 
perfection of His absolute Nature) above the reach of 
our capacities, has smoothed the way for the fulfilment 
of this commandment, and removed all hfticult es out 
of our path, by presenting Himself to us n f ! on a 
a man, and allowing us to love Him tl o i^l tl e 
dium o£ One, who was a partaker at on of His na 
ture and of ours. 

It ia tcue, indeed, that we iadividu llj ha e no e 
looked upon Our Lord Jesus Christ, and cannot there- 
fijre form as lively a conception of Him as those first 
disciples, who companied with Him all the time that 
He went in and out among men. And it seems to be 
intimated in Holy Scripture that the difficulty (and 
therefore the prMse) of believing in Him and loving 
Him is, under these circumstances, enhanced ; that 
our position is one of some disadvantage compared 
with that of the earliest believers. In this direction 
look the words of Our Lord to St. Thomas : " Thomas, 
because thou hast seen Me, &ou hast beheved i blessed 
are they that have not seen, and yet have beUeved." 
And St, Peter speaks to those whom he ia addressing, 
of Jeaus Christ, " whom having not seen, ye love ; " 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



X.] Peecspt of JHvine J^ove practicable to us. Ill 

the thought in the mind of the Apostle being proba- 
bly this, " Your fiiith is stronger, and youi love mcire 
commendable than mine, who have seen Him." And 
yet the advantages are siorely not all on one side. 
There can be no doubt that the mere association Tvith 
Our Lord, in the dayK wLen He was compassed ■with 
natural (though not with anful) infirmity, though it 
might have fiimished a more exact impression of Him, 
would not have been nearly so conducive to reverence 
of feeling as our present view of Him down the vista 
of the past. The hunger and the thirst, and the 
weariness, and the bufl'etings, and the slights, and the 
mockeries, and the cruel injuries, aie to our faith no 
drawbacks ; rather the glory which now enfolds His 
Sacred Person has absorbed into itself these traits of 
human infirmily, and made them glow with its own 
lustre. But when the disciples looked upon thein, as 
they were actually passing, these things would be 
hinderances rather than helps to their forming a right 
estimate of TTin holy dignity. — Consider, moreover, to 
how great an extent the inestimable possession of the 
Holy Giospels compensates us for the loss of all actual 
intercourse with Our Lord ; how, by furnishing to us 
these four pictures, Our Merciful Father has again 
smoothed the way for us to love His Sou, aiid through 
Hia Son to love Him. Consider that we have in 
these Grospels the very image of Christ (Himself the 
Image of God) as it was projected upon the mind of 
the Jew, reared in Old Testament associations ; upon 
the mind of the Eoman ', the prompt and energetic 

' This is Dr. Da Costa's idea. I have not his book (on " the 
Four Goapels") at hand ; but it is he who, in adTerOng to the 
resemblance of stjle, often ohserved upon, between St. Mark's 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



113 Of the Way in which Ood lias made the [chap. 

conqueror of the world ; upon the mind of the Greek, 
who represented the world's literature and intelli- 
gence ; and finally, upon the mind of one who, for his 
profound insight into the deep things of God, and 
specially into the relations of the Son to the Father, 
has been called by way of eminence St. John the 
Diviue. Here, therefore, you have four photographs 
of Our Lord in difierent postures, and with the minor 
incidents of the picture differently grouped. Photo- 
graphs I may well call them, much more truly than 
pictures ; because in the photograph tlie sun is the 
great designer, and the work of the artist is simply to 
arrange the position of the subject, and to prepare 
and expose the materials to the light. Similarly, the 
holy Evangelists, in providing likenesses of Our Lord 
for His Church, arranged the great Subject each of 
them from his own point of view, and according to 
the impression which CHirist left upon his own mind ; 
but they did little else than this; the light from 
Heaven, the brilliant light of inspiration, streamed in 
upon the dark chamber of their apprehensions, and 
secured the accuracy of the portrait in every minute 
particular. 

Then, since our Merciful God has made the love of 
Himself thus easy, first by giving lis an espress Image 
of Himself in the sinless humanity of Jesus, and 
secondly, by portraying this Image in the narratives 
of the four Elvangelists, our part is to ask ourselves 
very seriously whether our hearts are drawn toward 
the likeness, which has thus been furnished to us. Do 

Gospel and Cieaar's Commcnlaries, msinuatoa that Mareua may 
have been " the devout soldier of tliem which waited ou " Cor- 
nelius " eoutinually." 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



z.] Preoept of Divine I^ove practicaile to us. US 

we love with an adoring love, with a love which more 
and more establishes its empire within us, the charac- 
ter of Christ as it is presented to us by the Bvangel- 
iste ? I say, as it is presented to us by tM Meangei- 
ista, because I am persuaded that the object of homage 
with many Christians is a Christ of their own fiincy, 
not the Christ of Scripture, that is, of history. They 
copy into their fancy picture all the mild, and gentle, 
and merciful features of the original ; but the indig- 
nant repudiation of hypocrisy, the keen-edged censure 
of religious formalism, the stem exposure of all stick- 
ling for the letter while the spirit is disregarded, the 
distinct repudiation of the world's estimate of all sub- 
jects — blessedness, misery, sin, piety, God — the pos- 
itive severity to characters wanting in truth and 
wanting in tenderness — in short, that whole side of 
the Lord's mind which armed against Him Pharisaic 
prejudice and exclusiveness, and aroused a malignant 
hatred against His Person, without parallel in tlie 
annals of our race, all this scarcely enters at all into 
the estimate of Christ's character which many of His 
professing followers form. But to love Christ must 
surely imply (as I shall insist upon more at large in 
another Chapter) a sympathy with His antipathies. 
If we in no measure detest falsehood and formalism as 
He did, if we in no measure repudiate, as He did, the 
world's estimate of spiritual subjects, surely there is 
every reason to doubt whether, instead of Him, we 
are not worshipping a creation of our own brain. Oh, 
it is easy to love God (or to imagine that we love 
Him) when He comes preaching peace to all who will 
receive it, and scattering blessings with lavish hand 
upon the sufferers of the human ra«e ; but when He 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



114 Of the Way in which God has made the [chap. 

beats down with His fulminations the old idols of 
prejudice, which have grown green in our hearts, nn- 
maska our hypocrisies, and gives the lie to every 
single maxim and principle of worldly policy — how 
then f Search your heart, my reader ; are you wor- 
shipping a fictitious Christ, or the true OEe ? 

Perhaps you may find that -you are worsbipping, 
not a Person at all, but a doctrine, or a little group 
of doctrines, selected fix)m the mass according to your 
own prepossessions, or the bias of your own theologi- 
cal schooL Christianity, accordhig to your view, does 
not consist in the simple, trustful love of Jesus, mould- 
ing the character into conformity with His image ; 
but in a resolute (and, it must be confessed, an occar 
sionally bitter) adherence to certain blessed aud pre- 
cioiis doctrines announced by the Apostle Paul, for 
the comfort and edification of the people of God. Jus- 
tification of free grace and by faith only, sanctification 
of Gtod's elect through the Spirit, and their preserva- 
tion through faith unto salvation — allegiance to these 
formularies of doctrine and denunciations of all who 
do not give thorn an equaUy prominent place with 
yourself, is what you are substituting for the first and 
great commandment, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and 
with all thy mind." Oh ! beware. We are justified, 
doubtless, by faith. Mut the Scriplwe Tiever says 
th€tt we are justified by idie-eing in t/ie doctrine of 
juaUfiGoMon hy faith. We are justified, doubtless, by 
faith. But it is simply because &ith is the heart's 
first approach to Christ, who by His own merit heals 
all who apply to Him. The faith, if genuine, fastens 
not on any doctrine, but on the Person of the Saviour, 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



x.] Prec&pt of JDivine Zove pi'act'icabk to iia. 115 

and works the renovation of the character through 
the love of Him which it engenders. Have you the 
feith which makes you au adherent of Himself? and 
is it working by love ? Do you study His character, 
as it is portrayed by the Evangelists, looking often 
and lovingly upon His picture, as we do upon the 
portraits Of those we iovc ¥ Is it your delight to be 
continually reminded of His Presence, and do you 
instinctively seek that Presence in the intervals of 
business and amusement, and among the trials of the 
day ? And do you delight to feel that you are espe- 
cially in His Presence, when two or three are gathered 
together to commemorate His dying Love in the holy 
mysteries of His own appointment ? And is your 
constant gaze upon Him in His Providence, in His 
Word, and in His Sacraments, secretly working in yon 
a resemblance to His purity, as it is said that the wild 
animals who live in very high latitudes become white 
by constantly looking on the waste o£ snow which 
lies around them ? These are the questions by which 
to determine our love of the Saviour, and therefore 
ovx love of God, whose imago He is. And this love 
is the very criterion of Christian character. For, as 
on the one Land it is said, " Grace be with all those 
who love Our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity ; " so on 
the other are we warned that the lack of this love en- 
tails a ciffse on the disciple who lacks it : "If any 
man love not tlie Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anath- 
ema Maranatha." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Of the Love of Gratitude. [ouap. 



CHAPTER XI, 

OF THE LOVE Oy GRATITUDE. 
" Wo lose Him, because He first losed iis." — 1 John iv. 19. 

IT was pointed out in a former Oiiapter that oiio 
main form which the love of God assumea is the 
form of gratitude. The love of gratitude {or, as it 
might be termed, of reciprocity) -will form the subject 
of the present Chapter. 

The love of gratitude is a sense (poured forth into 
the heart, and filling every comer of it) of God's Love 
to us. Observe the terms of the delinitioii. A sense 
of Go(Ps Love — not a feeling awakened by God's 
Love. The two expressions may seem to signify the 
same thing ; but, when we come to examine them, we 
shall find that the first goes far beyond the second. 

Gratitude, as it is felt by man toward man, is gen- 
erally no more than a feeling (or sentiment) awakened 
by kindness. If a man does me a kindness at a con- 
siderable sacrifice to himself, this kindness produces 
in my mind a movement toward him, a disposition to 
think well of him, to like him, and (if I can) to requite 
him. If I have been heretofore cold toward Hni, hiiS 
kindness makes me thaw ; if I have hitherto taken no 
interest in him, his kindness quickens in me such an 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



Of the Love of Gratitude. 11'? 

So the Hun, by its action upon tho face of 
Nature, thaws the crust of ice which had formed over 
the water, and quickens the seed which lay dead and 
dormant in the bowels of the earth. 

But gratitude, as felt toward God, consists merely 
in a sense of TTjb Love. Tlie sense of His Love is not 
only the cause, but the essence, of ours. It does not 
resem.ble the thawing of the ice and the quickening 
of the seed by the sun's rays, so much as the reflec- 
tion of his light by the moon and planets. Consider 
the two images, and you will see the difference of the 
things illustrated. The thawing of the ice, and the 
quickening o£ the seed, are effects in Nature produced 
by the sun's rays— influences of the sun felt in Na- 
ture, and showing themselves in certain changes there. 
But what is moonlight? Moonlight is something 
more than an opeiat on \ oduced 1 y the u — t s 
actually sunlight refleotel by the mo n It s called 
moonlight, not beca se t j o eeds fiom the moon 
(which is an opaque bodj ha ing no I ght m taelf), 
but because the moon (aa also the \ K ets d ) nt r- 
cepts it and gives it 1 ack Sin larly tl e love of min 
toward Giod is not n erelj o sent ment engen lered n 
the human heart by the L \ e of God to rar 1 man It 
is actuafly " God's ' o va love (to ae the Aj ostle s 
expression), "shed forth in our hearts by the Holy- 
Ghost which is given unto us ; " it is not man's love 
at all, if you tra«e it up to its source ; but God's Love, 
intercepted and returned upon Him from a heart which 
has the capacity of reciprocating it. It does not take 
its rise in our own bosoms; we have no other prop- 
erty in it than that of simply reflecting and giving it 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



lis Of tJie Love of Gratitude. [chat. 

Now we shall view the subject for a few momenta 
under this image, becaiiee it conveys many profitable 
lessons : 

1, If our love to God be only His Love to us re- 
flected from our hearts, it must bo quite clear that the 
more we expose oUr hearts to His Love, the more 
truly shall we love Him. 

It is sometimes apprehended that by a too full and 
free exhibition of the Divine Love we may encourage 
sinners in their evil courses, and make them careless 
and licentious. But what shall we say to such rea- 
soning, if the very essence of man's love to God 
stands in the apprehension of God's Love to him ? 
Can we ever effectually sap sin's power over the heart, 
without implanting there sincere love to God ? And 
if sincere love to God be nothing else than God's 
Love shed forth into and reflected by the heart, are 
we likely to implant it by hiding God's Love in a 
comer, and shutting up the heart of man from the 
apprehension of it? What would be thought of a 
man, who, being possessed of some jewel, and desir- 
ing to exhibit its beauty, and to make it flash and 
sparkle, should carefully enclose it in its casket, and 
exclude it from the light of the sun ? The light in 
which it must flash and sparkle is not its own light ; 
aad therefore such a courae would effectually defeat 
the end. And if the dull spirit of raan is to be made 
to bum and shine ivith love to God, it must be brought 
out into the full blaxe of God's Love — the fuller the 
blaze, the stronger will be the reflected hght. And, 
for those who possess the love of God, the great 
method of making any solid advance in it must be 
surely a continual opening of the heart toward God's 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XI.] Of ilia Love of Gratitude. 119 

Love, with a yearning desire to know more of it, to be 
profovmdly indoctrinated into its freedom and fulness. 
If ■we are conscious of having sinned, it will do noth- 
ing for our restoration, rather it will throw «s back to 
a greater distance than that to which the sin haa al- 
ready removed us, to doubt God's Love in respect of 
that particular sra. To regard Him as our tender Fa- 
ther, yearning over us after and notwithstanding our 
fall, watching with deep solicitude for the earliest 
symptom of a better mind, nay, as already having 
^ven us forgiveness through the Blood and Right- 
eousness of His Son, this is the only method o£ resto- 
mtion. And the longer we delay the contact of the 
heart with the pardoning Love of God, the more time 
we waste, and the longer we obstruct our own re- 
covery. 

3; It must, I suppose, strike every one that, if our 
love to God be nothing more than God's Love to us, 
shed forth into oiu" hearts and reflected back thence, 
there can be no sort of merit or desert in it^ Of this 
grace of love it may be said, as is said by the 
Apostle of ministerial gifts, " What hast thou that 
thou didst not receive ? Now if thou didst receive it, 
why dost thou glory as if thon hadst not received 
it?" I£ we are in the first instance recipienis of the 
Love, which flows from us back into the Bosom of 
of Giod, is not all ground of boasting cut away ? And 
if there be no merit in the love o£ Gtod, there is no 
merit in any human virtue. For love embraces all the 
duiaes of the first Table, according to that word of 
Christ's : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
mind. This is the first and great commandment," 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



130 Of the, Love of Gratitude. [chap. 

And in regard to the duties of the second Table, thej' 
are implicitly wrapped up in the first ; for the love of 
our neighbor is prescribed by Grod, and is part there- 
fore of the love of God, Thus all duties, if traced up 
to their original groimd, resolve themselves into the 
love of God, and are fulfilled by tha.fc love. No duties 
therefore can lay daim to any merit, since this chief 
and summary duty has none. 

3. But, thirdly, our illustration suggests this ques- 
tion, What is it which prevents our so realizing God's 
Love to us as to love Him in return ? And, when 
pursued, it answers the question which it suggests. 
What is it which might prevent the earth from reflect 
ing the warm and golden rays which the sun throws 
npon it ? The circumstance of part of its surfece be- 
ing turned away from the sun might of course do this. 
And we might compare such part of the earth's sur- 
face to the spiritual state of the heathen. They are 
plunged in the night of ignorance and error, because 
the revelation of God's Love has never been made to 
them ; they have never had their hearts exposed to 
the action of it. But Christians, who have been made 
acquainted with God's Love by the revelations of the 
Gospel — ^what can it be which preventa their reahzing 
it in an effectual manner, so as to ^ve it back ? Our 
illustration here again stands us in stead. The earth's 
surface may be exposed to the sun : nevertheless, if 
you build a hovel over a part of it, with no aperture 
for the light, you prevent that part from reflecting the 
Bun's rays. Now, there is a certain hovel built over 
the hearts of all of us, screening us from the light 
and warmtli of Divine Love, and called unbehet All 
the knowledge of God's Love in the world, without 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XL] Of the Zove of Gratitude. 121 

faith in it, will avail nothing to make us reciprocate it. 
We may feel certain that the Love of God has been 
manifested in a marvellous way towaid the whole hu- 
man race ; that it has been poured out without stint 
upon mankind in general, and yet may not ourselves (by 
reason of unbelief) so feel it as to recipvocate it. Just 
60 a man in a dark hovel might be conscious that the 
sun was shining gloriously outside, yet himself might 
not either be lightened or warmed thereby. And 
therefore St. John, describing the proceM which is 
necessary in order to our reciprocating the Love of 
God, says, " We have known and believed the Love 
which God hath to us," "Known" — this is the first 
step ; and it distinguishes Christians from the heathen ; 
the heathen liave not " known" the Love of God, e:K- 
cept so far as Nature may have served to some of them 
as a revelatioa of it. But the knowing it is not of 
itself sufficient; the Love must be "believed" also, 
in order to ita being given back ; this is the second 
stage; and it distinguishes the true from the merely 
nominal Christian, He who not only knows the Love 
of God, but believes in it, enters upon the experimental 
enjoyment of it, and immediately reciprocates it. 

It being now clearly seen that faith is the spring 
of the love of gratitude, it remains to inquire how 
this faith ia to be obtained. 

Now, in obtaining itthere are two great truths to be 
kept in sight and made the foundation and regulating 
principle of all our efFortS, First, that it is the gift of 
God. " To you it is given," writes St. Paul, " in the 
behalf of Christ, .... to bdieve on Him," And 
again : salvation by faith (and if salvation by faith, 
then surely feith itself, which is the instrument of our 
6 

Ho-odt,Googk' 



133 Of the JJove of Gratitude. [chap, 

appropiiating salvation) is said distinctly to be the 
gift of God : " By grace are ye saved through faith ; 
and that not of yourselves ; it is the gift of God." 
Secondly, that the exercise of feith is designed to be 
a moral criterion between man and man ; and that 
those who have heard of Christ are morally respon- 
sible for not exercising faith in Him , 

From these two truths flow the following practi- 
cal advices : 

1. The gift of faith is to be sought in earnest and 
perseveriog prayer. " Lord, help Thou mine unbelief," 
" Increase my faith," is to be the ceaseless importu- 
nate cry of our hearts. And we must confess our- 
selves before God, not only destitute of faith, but 
incapable of attaining it hy our own efforts. And 
though we must be very earnest in this prayer, yet 
we must be content to abide God's time for answering 
it, remembering how often in the stubbornness of our 
perverse hearts we have turned a deaf ear to the soli- 
citalions of His grace, and have thus merited that He 
should turn a deaf ear to our cry. 

3. We should observe, for our encouragement, 
that our importunity in prayer is itself an answer to 
our petitions. There cannot be earnest prayer with- 
out some amount of faith, though it may not be a 
faith fully formed or developed, nor may as yet fasten 
upon those truths which are the leading features of 
the Grospel. " He that cometh to God must believe 
that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that 
dihgently seek Him." Consider how thoroughly un- 
formed a faith those characters in the Gospel must 
have had, who yet are commended for their faith, and 
carry away their cure (or the cure of their friends) as 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XI.] Of the Love of Gratitude. 133 

the recompense of it. It can have been nothing more, 
generally speaking, than a persuasion of Christ's power 
and ■willingness to heal — in the case of the woman with 
the issue of blood, it seems to have been nothing more 
than the idea Ihat it was worth while malting an ex- 
periment, as it might be successful. It is well to re- 
member that, as you may infer from smoke that there 
is fire somewhere, though it may be smouldering be- 
neath superincumbent fuel, and not even a spark may 
be visible, so you may infer from prayer that there is 
faith somewhere in the heart, though it may be well- 
nigh smothered beneath the load of natural eorraption 
and infinnity. And of Christ it is said, that He will 
not quench the smoldng flajf. Prayer is the smoke 
which goes up from a heart, in which the first spark 
of faith has been dimly kindled. 

3. Together with prayer, other means of bringing 
about the desired effect must be diligently used. 

The chief of these wiU be the maldng God'e Love 
a definite subject of meditation. This Love is to be 
inferred from the great fact of His having given His 
Son for us, which must be constantly placed before the 
mind with an effort to realize it. Our familiarity with 
the fact, or rather with the worda which express it, 
exceedingly blunts and deadens our apprehensions of 
it. We must strive against the influence of this femil- 
iarity. "We must endeavor to lift our minds out of 
the groove of certain formulari^, in which the truth 
has been from our childhood conveyed to us ; and to 
front, not a verbal proposition, but the great reality 
itself. The great reality is, that God gave up for man, 
out of love to man, and for the salvation of man, the 
one thing in the Universe which could to Gtod be a 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



12i Of the Zovs of Gratitude. [chap. 

Baorifioe. " God so loved the world, that He gave 
His Oniy-Begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
Him should not perish, but have everlasting life," 
" He gave K'"« Son." We know the exceeding diffi- 
culty with which a parent is induced to tear himself 
away from an only child. If the child is to be parted 
with to adverse or doubtful fortunes, the struggle 
is more dreadful stiU. 11 an only son is to be sent 
to a "ivar upon the losing side, where daily rislts have 
to be run, daily hardships to be encountered, and a 
violent death is all but certain, some one strong ab- 
sorbing passion must have got the mastery of the pa- 
rent's heart, before he could be brought to consent to 
such a sacrifice. Now, this is the aspect under which 
God would have ns think of Hia Lova His Son, of 
glory equal, of majesty ooetenial with His own, had 
lain in His Bosom from all eternity, had been bound 
to Him in that closest of all unions, the unity of the 
Godhead. But God went forth in the longings of 
ardent parental affection to those created children of 
His, who had abandoned communion with. Him, and 
in whom His Image (the image at least of His moral 
perfections) was altogether effaced. Not the smallest 
signs of a better mind did they give ; every ory which 
reached Heaven from earth was a cry of defiance and 
hostility ; but as the undutifulnees of a son does not 
stifle the father's affection and anxiety to reclaim him, 
BO the fall of man did not repre^ the tenderness of 
God's Love for him, but on the other hand called forth 
the most wonderful exercise of it. Eather than that 
His created children shoxJd perish eternally, God pre- 
ferred making over His uncreated Son to hajrdsiiip, 
and toil, and a bloody and shameful death on their bs- 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XI.] Of the Love of Gratiiiuh. I'ih 

half. That bloody and sbameful death was in the 
counsels of His wisdom expiatory of sin ; it was a 
satisfaction of tlie Divine justice ; and it harmonized 
all the DiTine perfections with the salvation of man. 
This, however, is not the point in it to which atten- 
tion is now called. We are not speaking of the effi- 
cacy of the Sacrifice, but of the Love of God in pro- 
viding the Sacrifice. It is of no small importance, as 
we have said in an earlier Chapter, to observe this dis- 
tinction, " We love Him," says the Apostle — not 
because He has conferred a paiticulaj" and high benefit 
upon us — not even because He has given His Son for 
us — but " because He first loved us." It is the Love 
of God which attracts our gratitude, not the benefit 
which, in the exercise of that Love, He hath conferred. 
The affections of the human heart cannot be con- 
strained by benefits, independently of the mind of the 
benefactor. And therefore, if our hearts are to be 
given to God, the thing which we need first and be- 
fore all other things is assurance of His sympathy. 
And of this He has vouchsafed to vs the strongest 
and most irrefragable assurance in the gift of Christ. 
This gift we must strive to view, not only in ita own 
intrinsic preciousness, as being the ransom of our souls, 
but in the Love which dictated it, 

4. The last poiut which I shall mention for the ob- 
taming of iaith in God's Love, is the acting a^ if we 
had it. The ten lepers in the Gospel were bidden to 
go and sliow themselves to the priests, before they 
were cleansed. Now, the purpose of showing them- 
selves to the priests was, that they might receive cere- 
monial purification, which the priests were directed 
not to confer unless they had first ascertained that 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



136 Of the Love of Gratitude. [chap. 

the leper was actually made whole. These lepers 
were instructed, then, to act upon an assumption, which 
was not yet realized ; and in the acting upon it they 
found it realized ; "it came to pass," we read, "that 
as they went, they were deaused." Until, therefore, 
you obtain a liyely faith and love, act as far as possi- 
ble on the assumption that you have them. Endeav- 
or, to foment in your heart the poor faith and lovo 
which you at present have. Think much of Grod's 
Love as manifested, not only to mankind at large, but 
to yourself in particular. Express yourself toward 
Him in prayer aa if you loved Sim. Review His 
mercies in detail, and thank Him for them spedfical- 
\y. Praise Him with as much fervor as you at present 
are master oi', in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual 
songs. "Aspire to Grod by brief but ardent ejacula- 
tions o£ your heart ; admire His beauty ; invoke His 
assistance, and cast yourself in spirit at the foot of 
His cross ; adore Hia goodness ; treat with Him often 
on the great concern of your salvation ; give your 
soul to Him a thousand times a day ; make a thou- 
sand different sorts of motions in your heart to excite 
you to a passionate and tender affection." ' Stretch 
out your hand to Him as a child to a fether, that He 
may conduct you ; and while you are thus musing the 
fire shall kindle ; your feith shall seem to burst 
through the superincumbent load of your natural cor- 
ruption ; and the Love of God, shed abroad in your 
heart by the Holy Ghost which is given you, slmll re- 
turn again into His Bosom, as rivers return into the 
great deep, whose full-charged fountains sent them 
forth. 

' From the " Vie Dovote " of S. Pranjoia dc Sales. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Of the Love of G-od, etc. 



CHAPTER Xn. 

OF THE LOTE OF GOD AS INVOLVING ANTirATHY 'fO 
EYIL. 

" Ye Stat love the lord, hale evil."— Ps. sevii. 10. 

r I iHE first of all the commandments is, Hear, 

-L Israel : The Lord our God is one Lord : and 

thou shalt love the Lord tliy God with all thy heart, 

and with all thy soul, and all thy mind, and with all 

thy strength." 

Hence it is supremely important to ascertain how 
far we fiilfil this commandment. And yet perhaps 
there is no point respecting our spiritual state which 
it is more hard to ascertain. There is no point on 
which the naturally deceitful heart is more apt to de- 
ceive us. And the reasons of this proneness to self- 
deceit upon a question so important are obvious. 
First, as the Apostle John says, " No man hath seen 
God at any tJme." And our ideas of that which we 
have never seen are necessarily imdefined and vague. 
Mere description, however accurate, can never convey 
any thing fully. And, therefore, our very notion of 
God being vague, our oHigation to love Him becomes 
somewhat vague also. And it contributes to tbis in- 
dciinitcness of impression that God is really so much 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



138 0-1 tJi r It. >T (ril [rii^p 

above ui — that theie iro in Hrni so manj tiun^ 
strange to our evpenence and understanding, that 
"His tliouglita ore not our thoughts, neitlier are our 
ways Hi^i wij s " 

Now, an admirable practaca! test of the love of God 
is suggested in the passage which stands at the head 
of this Chapter, and shall form the subject of it. If 
we hnow comparatively little about God, if we find it 
hard to raise our understandings to the apprehension 
of TTia perfections, if, when we try to fix our thoughts 
upon Him, " clouds and darkness " are apt to gather 
round the mind — there is at least one subject with 
which we are thoroughly conversant from our youth 
upward, which presents itself in a thousand definite 
shapes, and by our dispositions toward which we may 
judge with tolerable certainty of our disposition tow- 
ard Gtod. That subject is evil — ^moral evil — ^ia one 
word, sin. Who does not know what evil means ? 
If I were to define it, I should fell into the logical 
error of making a definition more obscure than the 
thing defined. Evil is with us all day long, in our 
hearts — around us all day long, in our society. Our 
moral constitutions take it in continually, just as our 
bodies take in the air we breathe. As says the 
Christian poet — 

" Sin is ivitb man at morning break, 
And through t&e livelong day, 
Deafens the ear that f^n would wake 
To Nature's mmplo lay." 

Now, of thus much respecting Almighty Giad we may 
be absolutely certain, that evil is His opposite. " God 
is light; and in Him is no darkness at ail." We 
know what contradictories in reasoning are ; they are 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XII.] US miiolvinff AntqKitJiy to Evil. 139 

two statements, which cannot possibly be both true 
or both false at the same time ; the truth of one of 
them infers necessarily the felsehood of the other. 
We know what contradictories in nature are. Water 
destroys fire. light expels darkness. Alkalies neu- 
tralize acids. The two cannot subsist together. Now, 
God (whatever else He may be) is the contradictory 
of evil Evil stands in opposition to God. Giod lays 
His baji upon it, eoodemns it, forbids it, wUl in time 
demolish it utterly. What follows ? That, if we hate 
evil, we must love God, even as, if we dread and dis- 
like the darkness, we must welcome and long for the 
light. The two things infer one another, and there is 
no alternative. For, though the Psalmist in the ex- 
hortation, " ye that love the Lord, see that ye hat« 
the thing which is evO," seems at first sight to imply 
that they who love the Lord might possibly be slack 
in hating evil, the words are surely to be understood 
as a caution addressed to those who profess to love 
the Lord, having, indeed, a sense very similar to that 
motto upon God's foundataoo, which is recited by the 
Apostle Paul: "Let every one that nameth t!ie name 
of Christ depart from iniquity." 

By way, then, of testing the affections of our own 
hearts toward God, let us ascertain how we are dis- 
posed toward His opposite — evil. And, in order that 
we may do this the more easily, let us consider what 
is involved in the term, a hatred of evil. 

It is clear, then, that to hate evil is something far 
more than merely to shun, or avoid it ; tliat it is pos- 
sible to avoid without hating it ; nay, that not only is 
it possible, but that this is a phenomenon which not 
unfrequently meets us^of which, possibly, we have 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



130 Of the Love of God [chap. 

experience in ourselves. Tiiere are certain forms of 
sin to which all persons of sfawng passions and -waxia 
temperaments are naturally prepense. Experience, or 
dread of the prejudicid effects of indulgence, or fear 
of discovery and exposure, may adequately protect us 
from the outward act of sin, so that our conduct in 
this respect may bo blameless. And yet there may be 
a positive absence of any thing like hatred, or moral 
dislike, in our feeling against such forms of evil. Per- 
haps we may eren toy with the images of sin, when 
presented to us by our fancy, or even go so far as to 
hanker after the removal of restrictions. But God is 
purity ; and, if we do not hate impurity, sicken at the 
sight and thought of it, and turn away with disgust 
it is out of the question that we can love Him 

Again; it is quite possible not to be implicitel 
personally in sin, and yet to treat it, when witnessed 
or heard of in others, with levity an \ in liffarence 
While far enough removed from it ourselves we miy 
speak o£ it with a smile, and use it to pomt a ]est. 
This we surely could not do, unless we were indiffer- 
ent to it ; and indifference to it implies that we do not 
hato it ; indifference is a standing aloof from either ex- 
treme- — equally poised between love and hatred. 

If we would realize the full force of the term 
"hatred of evil," as it ought to exist in all, as it 
would exist in a perfectly righteous man, we shall do 
well to consider how sensitive we are to natural evil 
in its every form — to pain, and suffering, and mis- 
fortune. How delicately is the physical frame of man 
constructed, and how keenly is the slightest derange- 
ment in any part of it felt ! A little mote in the eye, 
hardly discernible by the eye of another, the swelling 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XII.] ts involving Antipathy to Mnl. 131 

of a small gland, tlie deposit of a small grain of sand, 
what agonies may these sliglitoaufies inflict! That fine 
filament of nerves of feeling spread like a wonderful 
net-work of gossamer over the whole surface of the 
body, how exquisitely susceptible is it ! A trifling 
biirii, or scald, or incision, how does it cause the mem- 
ber affected to bo drawn back suddenly, and the 
patient to cry out I Now, there can bo no question 
that, if man were in a perfect moral state, moral evil 
would affect his mind as sensibly, and in as lively a 
manner — would, in short, be as much of an affliction to 
him, as pain is to his physical frame. He would shrink 
and snatch himself away, as sin came near to his con- 
sciousness ; the first entrance of it into his imagination 
woiild wound and arouse his moral sensibilities, and 
make him positively unhappy. You will say, perhaps, 
that there never was an instance of such acute moral 
sensibilities in any partaker of our nature. Excuse 
me ; there was. The Holy, Harmless, Undefiled One, 
Our Lord Jesus Chrbt, was an instance, and the only 
instance in point. It was not only that He loathed 
the grosser forms of evil ; but that He flung from Him 
with abhorrence every unspiritual suggestion, such as 
that once made to Him by the Apostle Peter, to de- 
cline the Cross and consult His own ease, Christ 
heard the tempter's. whisper on that occasion finding 
an organ for itself in the mouth of the Apostle ; but 
immediately, with that moral indignation which formed 
one of the grandest elements in His perfect character, 
the Seed of the Woman turned upon the Serpent, and 
crushed his head : " Get thee behind Me, Satan : thou 
art an offence unto me: for thou savorest not the 
things that be of God, but those that be of men." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



133 Of the Zove of God [citap. 

And it is this moral sensitiveness of Christ, owing to 
the perfection of His humaa nature, which made His 
suffering's so esqmsite and altogether unparalleled, and 
which probably formed the stress of the ti-ia! in His 
mysterious Agony. As fer as the Lord's physical 
frame went, His sufferings have probably been more 
than paralleled Ijy those of many of His martyrs. But 
over and above the torture of crucifixion, there ivas 
in the natiire of the Lord Jesus a mysterious ground 
of EufFeiing, which none of us mere sinful men share 
in common with Him. In the first place, He had 
lived before His Incarnation from all eternity in a 
world where sin and sorrow are unknown. Before tlie 
morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God 
shouted for joy, on the occasion of the earth's founda- 
tion-stone being laid, the Only Begotten had lain in 
the bosom of the Father, receiving the incense of the 
Seraphim's praise. To us sin and sorrow are our fa- 
miliar native element ; they are the notes which have 
sounded in our ear from infency, and from their con- 
stant repetition have ceased to attract notice ; to Him 
they were a perpetual discord, jarring most offensively 
with the harmonies of angelic harps. But then again, 
altogether independently of his Divine extraction, 
there was in His human nature an avenue by which 
suffering could reach Him, which in us, alas ! sin has 
dosed. This avenue was the moral sensibility of 
which we have been speaking, a sensibility which, it 
is true, Grace gradually revives in every character of 
which it gains the mastery, but which, at the same 
time, is obtuse in the holiest among iis, when com- 
pared with the exquisite perfection in which He pos- 
sessed it. Yet we may reach something of the idea 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XII.] as involving Antipailhy to Evil. 133 

of it, by imagming the case of a very holy man forced 
into very low and vicious company, and obl'ged to 
keep his eyes and his eara open. Imagine an en net t 
saint who had hitherto lived in habits ol 1 m 

munion with God, thrust not merely into [ nson b t 
into such vile society as is usually found in \ rianns 
forced to listen to ribald jests, obscene song" bl s- 
phemous execrations, profane oaths. To the drunkard 
and the debauchee such society would be no trial ; to 
the saint, even were there no physical discomfort in 
the drcumstanoes, the mere contact with such com- 
pany would be a frightful triah What must it have 
been, then, to the King of Saints to move amidst 
wicked and worldly men for thirty-three years ; to go 
up and down in a lazar-bouse-of moral and physical 
evil, amidst broken hearts, depraved wills, hollow and 
insincere professions ? Fallen man may find sudi a 
pilgrimage tolerable ; but on His pure spirit surround- 
ing sin exercised at all times a heavy pressure. We 
can be no judges of His suffering, because we have 
not naturally the sensibility which alone can enable 
us to appreciate it; just as ^one of those animals of 
simple construction, very low down in the scale of 
animal life, and with sensations only half developed, 
could form no notion of the sufferings of a man, whose 
complex fi-ame is sensitive, and whose mind is esjxjsed 
to the burden of many anxieties. 

In Christ, then, is not only every other grace in 
perfection, but the perfection of the hatred of eviL 
And, in conforming the soul to the Image of Christ, the 
Holy Spirit will form in us, as on the one hand, the 
love of God, so on the other — ^that which is indeed only 
the opposite pole of the love of God — the hatred of evil. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



13i Of the, Love of Go^ [chap. 

It will be interesting to glance at some esomplifi- 
nations of this hatred of evil, first in Our Lord, Who 
is Love, and tht'n in His Apostles. 

Theie can lie no question, then, that the first idea 
which the character of Christ i^resenta to us is that of 
overflowing love and tender compassion The Gospel 
portraiture of Him is that of a gentle limb, dmnb 
before its shearers. But, if we look a second time into 
the sacred narrative'^, we shall find the bati'cd of sin 
coming out with no less emphasis than love for the 
siimer. Never once did a hard word escape Our Lord's 
lips against those who sinned from infirmity or strength 
of passion ; His hatred of sin in their case was to be 
manife'^ted by His going among them, taking them 
by the hand, and drawing them out of the mire. But 
there were he<irt5 in Judea and Jerusalem, where sin 
had resolutely intrenched itself within the fortress 
of hypocrisy ; people who were not merely ill-livers, 
but whose whole life was a lie— people who depraved 
God's truth, while they professed to teach it, and who 
did their best to dissuade men from accepting the an- 
tidote against evil which the Saviour brought. Under- 
stand this well. From simple sin Cihrist came to save 
us ; and as the way to save us was to win us, and men 
are not won by being threatened and frightened, you 
do not hear irom His mouth fulrainationa against the 
various classes of sinners with which the world abounds, 
the intemperate, the unclean, the debauched, the dis- 
honest. Sorely did their sins burden His spirit ; they 
even wrung great drops of Blood from His Sacred 
Person ; but He did not say a word, which might be 
interpreted into a discouragement of those, whom He 
came to win and save. But against the sin of sins. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



xn,] as involmng Antipathy to JSvil. 135 

which impeded and counteracted Hia saving work, 
against the folse doctrine and hypocrisy of Pharisees, 
He did launch the thunders of Hia wrath. He did not 
spare words of censure ; He told them in plain terms 
that the doers of such sins were a brood of heU. " Ye 
serpents," cried He, "ye generation of vipers, how can 
ye escape the damnation of bell?" Before His final 
exit from the Temple He denounced ""Woe," nine 
times, on nine different coimts, against characters such 
aa these. Think not that this is derogatory to the 
Love, which forma the staple of His charaoter. On tbo 
contrary, rightly underatood, it is a part of His Love. 
Those who wilfully put obstacles in the way of the 
salvation of souls are surely the friends of that sin, 
from which the Lord came to save us. He and His, 
as they love souls, can have no truce with such persons 
continuing such endeavors. 

I say that neither He nor Mia can have any truce 
with them. For here His Apostles speak the same 
language as their Divine Master, When Elymas the 
sorcerer withstood the Gfospel, and sought to turn away 
Sergius Paulus from the faith, " Saul {who is also called 
Paul), filled with the Holy G-host, set his eyes on him, 
and said, O full of all eubtilty and all miachief, thou 
child of the devil, thou enemy of all righteousness, wilt 
thou not cease to pervert the right ways of the Lord ? " 
In precisely the same spirit, and for precisely the 
same reasons, we find St. John, the Apoatle of Love, as 
i£ to show us that this grace is entirely consistent with 
a hatred of evil, launching against the heretics of the 
day, who depraved God's truth by the denial of the 
Incarnation, this very pointed sentence of excommuni- 
cation : " He that abideth in the doctrine of Christ, he 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



13G Of the Jiove of God [chap. 

iiath both the Fatter and the Son. If there come any 
tmto you, aad bring not this doctrine, receive him not 
into your house, neither bid him Grod speed. For lie 
that biddeth him God speed ia partaker of his evil 
deeds." God's truth is his great instrument for saving 
BorJa, and a person who seriously mutilates it in a vital 
part, deprives it pro tanto of efficacy, and thereby does 
his best to maintain the empire of sin. The Apostle 
of Love will have no truce with such a one ; will not 
even liarbor him under his root — Add to this the 
grand burst of indignation which prematurely termi- 
nated the apology of St. Stephen. Resistance to con- 
victions wrought in the heart by the Holy Spirit is not 
merely sin ; but sin stubbornly maintaining its empire 
in the face of God's attempt to break its power. It is 
sin intrenching itself in the fortress of the ■will, and 
saying to Grace, " Thou shalt not reduce me." St, 
Stephen, full of holy love, is fired by the thought how 
often hifi countrymen had thus resisted God: "Yc 
atiffneeked," exdaims he, " and unoircumciaed in heart 
and ears, ye do always resist the Holy^ Ghost : as your 
fathers did, so do ye," To be a sinner is one thing. 
R^olutely to maintain sin's empire in ourselves or 
others is quite a distinct, and a much more deadly, 
form of evil, Christ and His primitive disciples had 
only dew and balm for the one. But they had thurt- 
der-bolts for the other. 

"We may here make the general reflection, that 
Love, as a Christian gTace, is an altogether different 
thing fi;om many qualities which usurp its name. A 
different thing, first, from that easy pliability of will, 
which is called good-nature, but which in fact resolves 
itaelf into indolence and languor of character. On 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XII.] m involving Antipathy to Mail. 1'67 

the contrary, in all teal love there is strength, strength 
of will and strength of character. In all real lore 
there is WTapped up hatred against that evil which 
counteracts goodness. Without intending for a 
moment to limit the operations of God's gnice, it 
may be asserted that, generally speaking, the truest 
Cliristiana have in tliem the greatest force of character. 
"The kingdom of heaven," says our Lord, "sufferetii 
violence, and the \-iolent talie it by force." There 
must be resoluteness, in order to obtain such a prize. 
— And again, He commands that the salt of decision 
and energy shall be mixed with the oil of love- 
" Have salt in yourselves ; " and as this salt, if it were 
allowed too gi-eat preponderance, might operate to 
make breaches of the peace, He adds, " Have salt in 
vnurselve"' and have peace one vilh anotJier " — And 
a oin Ch st an love s a e y d ffere t th n„ f om 
th t mdiffe en to tl eologi ^ er or whi h n these 
1 t tud n n daj s too often apes ts n anne s an 1 
Qica ta phras olOj,y In lesser (or lo I tf I) 
p t ot affect ng the tahty of C od s t tl ou 
m m st 1 e tole anee to the ery utmost ay 
(m 6 than tole ance) a cathol c acknowledgment 
of hat ve s good al se m othe Chnstan 
(T u 1 s B t he e tl e error mut lates the tal 
1 ta of tl e truth the e lo e can only a] pear n ts 
f o -m of hat e 1 ol e L It s a very senous b a h of 
love to i>ay compliments to false doctrine. Our 
Blessed Lord and His Apostles never did so. 

Now let us review summarily our conclusions, and 
see what light they throw on that question, so vitally 
affecting our own happiness, Whether or not we love 
God? 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



138 Of the Low. of God [chap. 

"We derive our Imowledge of evil from two sources. 
We fiiii the instigations of it in our own hearts. We 
SCO the workings of it in the -world around us. 

First, then, how are wc affected toward the evil 
which is in ourselves ? Do we not merely decline to 
carry out its instigations in act ; but do we reject 
them with loathing and abhorrence, on the first mo- 
ment of their being presented to us ? Is something 
more than mere principle enlisted in our resistance to 
it ? is feeling enlisted also ? 

Next, how are we afiectcd toward it when it ap- 
pears in others ? Do we ever talk of it with a smile 
or a cynical sneer ? Do we, by the sentiments we ex- 
piess, ever encourage the young to imagine that the 
escea&es and iices of vouth aj^ at least vernal, an 1 
entail no real misclne^ if not carried beyond youth ' 
Is the society <.f worldly persona—Mho estimate ill 
thmga b) a worldly btandard, and seem never to 
breathe a higher element than that which is of the 
earth eirthy — more and more dibtastetul to us ? 
How should we favor a counsel, like that t^iven bj '^t 
Petci to his Master to take our e-^e in this woild, 
and, w^hile steering clear of vice, to abandon the toil 
and seH-isacrifice incidental to God's service and the 
work of our salvation ? Last (but not least), how far 
have we escaped the latitudinarian tendencies of the 
time ? is our protest against error in principle equally 
stem with that against vice in practice ? or are we, in 
the true spirit of the age, for a Church where positive 
dogmas shall be superseded by amiable sentiments to 
all mankind— a Church which, instead of professing 
and upholding the mystery of godliness, which is the 
Catholic Faith once delivered to the Sainte, shall 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



sii] us inoolom I Anfi^iothy to £JiJ 13'J 

glory m profeasmg and ujiholding nothmg hej ond 
those three specious watcliwords, which have served 
as a pretext for the most hideous crimes, Liberty, 
Fiateniity, EquJitj ? 

Eeadei, the lo\o of God miolves sympathy with 
Hio antipathies The love ot God, as treated of hy 
many devout and pioua luthors, in whose lucubrations 
there is much which is edifying and deeply attractive, 
has worn too much the aspect of a sentiment, or rather 
of a sentimentalism, A sentiment it is, but a strong 
and masculine sentiment, as repellent of evil as it is 
responsive to God's goodness. And it should be a 
consolation to thoso who feel themselves at present 
to be poor proficients in the love of God, if they can 
at least recognize in themselves a stem resistance to 
evil. Is not this the way, under the discIpDne of the 
Holy Spirit, to master this grace of the love of God ? 
Begin with the negative side, and work up to the 
positive. Cultivate a hatred of evil, as being offensive 
to God, and forbidden by Him, and you are cultivat- 
ing Divine love. As for the sweetness of this love, 
that is reserved as an encouragement for dUigence in 
getting over the more rugged ground. To feel the 
love of God exercising a sensible attraction within 
you, shall be the crown of your efforts, the fragrant 
blossom which shall grow out of the hatred of evil. 
Look not for the crown without the cross, nor lor the 
blossom without the thorn, 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



Of rarity of Motive. 



CHAPTER Sin. 



" The Uglit of the iod&/ is Uie ei/e .- if therefore i/iiije eye he single, thy 
whole bodi/ shall he full of liff/il. Bui if llmie eye be eiiil, thg 
whole body shall be ftfll of davkn/aa. If therefore the light that 
is in thee hs darkness, Ivjvi greai is thai darhjieM I " — Matt. vi. 



THIS fig-urative saying of Our Lord's oceiors in tbe 
midst of a paragraph in which He is warning 
His hearers against the sin of covetousness ; and is 
inunediately followed by those well-known words, " No 
man can serve two masters ; for either he will hate 
the one, and love the other; or else he ■will hold to 
the one, and despise the oilier. Ye cannot serve God 
and mammon." This connection settles conclusively 
the meaning of the passage. By " the eye " Our Lord 
must mean the ruling aim or intention. And by " the 
body " He must mean the whole moral conduct. As 
the body is habitually goremed by the eye — as, when 
we wallc abroad, we move our limbs in obedience to 
the directions of the eye — eo the ruling aim determines 
our conduct; and often, when we seem to ourselves 
to do things mechanically and without thought, they 
are really done in obedience to lie ruling aim ; just 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



xiii.] Of Purity of Motive. 141 

as, when a man walks, he does not think at each, step 
how he shall plant his feet, but simply uses his eyes, 
and thus walks in safety as a matter of course. The 
" single eye " is doubtless to he interpreted by a refer- 
ence to what follows, " No man can serve two mas- 
ters." A single eye is one which sees aJl objects 
single ; as a double eye would be one, the images 
presented by which are, in consequence of its derange- 
ment, double. If a man had such a deranged eye, the 
members of his body would constantly be misled by 
its illusions ; when he reached forth his hand to an 
object, he might grasp a phantom ; and in walking 
he might make many a false step, if hia sight were 
confused by two or three images of the road intersect- 
ing one another. Now, a person with this bodily com- 
plaint is ft good image or parable of a man with a 
double aim or by-end — one who wishes to serve God 
a little, and the world a little too. He is distracted 
and misled by a twofold image dancing before liis 
mental eye. And often, when he congratulates him- 
self with some self-complacency on having done a 
righteous and good action, a thorough scrutiny of his 
heart and motive would show that he had been only 
serving his own interests instead of serving his Heav- 
enly Master — seeking human applause, perhaps, not 
the praise that cometh of God only. By an evil eye 
in the verso following is meant, I believe, not a double 
intention, but something worse than that, an intention 
thoroughly vicious and depraved. Our Lord de- 
scribes two extreme spiritual states, the highest and 
the lowest. The first is characterized by a single eye, 
i. e., a pure intention in all things to please God out 
of love. If the eye be thus " single," the intention 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



143 Of Purity of Motive. [chap. 

thus pure, "thy whole body shall bo full of Ught," i. e., 
every action of yours shall be spiritualized, sanctified, 
interperietrated by the luminousness of the intention. 
The lowest and worst spiritual state is that not of a 
double, which would be intermediate, but of an evil 
eye. This is where the soul intends from perverse 
motives to do wrong, and was exemplified in the 
Pharisees, who, though convinced of the truth of 
Christ's mission, bent their whole strength to put 
down the truth. Of thia latter state He says: "Where 
the ruling aim is depraved, how dark must the whole 
lower life of action be, which at best has never any 
light in itself, but is lit by the ruling aim 1 " " If the 
light that is in thee be darkness, how great is the" 
(not " that ") " darkness ! " 

The words of Our Lord, thus explained, furnish 
much material for interesting and edifying thought. 

First: as to the relation which the intention or 
ruling aim boars to an action prompted by it. This is 
defined to bo the same relation which the eye bears 
to the other members of the body. The other mem- 
bers are dark ; not only are they not luminous ; 
not only are they not transparent ; but there is in them 
no receptivity for the light ; all that they do is to 
throw back any light which may be shed upon them, 
or {in other words) to reflect it. And consequently 
the other member without the eye would be only a 
gross, dark mass of animal matter, cumbrous, and with 
no power of self-guidance. But the eye is so con- 
structed as to be receptive of light, and of the images 
which the light bears on its wings. The images of 
objects in our neighborhood being presented to us by 
the eye, we can move our limbs among those objects 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



xm.] Of Purity of Motive. 143 

in safety. Now, the intention, with which actions sire 
done is the light, the soul, the eye, the characteristic 
feature of actions. Yes ; the characteristic feature, 
that is the word ; for it is the eye which gives charac- 
ter and expression to the countenance ; and it is the 
intention or aim {and this alone) which gives charac- 
ter or espreasion to the action. Without any inten- 
tion, the aetions of man become mere dark and con- 
fused movements, lit up by no meaning, kindling with 
no expression. 

Indeed, here we come across that broad line of 
demarcation which separates man from the inferior 
animals. The inferior animala are agents with, a cer- 
tain freedom of action ; but they are not moral agents. 
Why ? Because there is no intention in their actions ; 
nothing higher than the drawing of simple propen- 
sions and simple instincts. They are hungry, and 
they go in quest of their prey ; they are thirsty, and 
they seek water to drink ; the maternal instinct makes 
them shelter their young, and repulse to the best of 
their power an assailant. But intention, as far as 
appears (or, in other words, reasonable aim), they 
have none. It cannot be supposed, for example, that 
an animal ever takes food with the view of suppoi-ting 
life ; he takes food to appease the gnawing of hunger; 
and there is no reason to imagine that he sees any 
connection between the taking food and the main- 
tenance of life. I am making a general statement 
of the case, without asserting that nothing which 
looks like an exception is anywhere to be foim.d, I 
do not mean to deny that in sonie animals instinct 
struggles up occasionally into a semblance of reason, 
even as on the borders of the animal and vegetable 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



144 Of PuTity of Motive. [chap. 

kingdoms jou will find the zoophyte struggling up 
into the coaditioiL of an animal; but anyhow, these 
efforts of inatinet, put them aa high as you please, are 
only temporary, aud must be regarded aa exceptions]. 
In mere action, then, apart from the rational aim or 
motive which inspires it, there is no character, no 
soul, no expression. Take the heroic actions of some 
pagan as an illustration of what we are saying. Sep- 
arate the action from the motive ; and what becomes 
of the heroism ? Take away the love of country, the 
love of home and hearth, and the desire of shielding 
them, take away the love of glory and the thirst for 
its acquiaition — and the gallant exploits of Leonidas 
and Mettua Curtius are no more exploits — they are 
merely actions, and actions which brought their per- 
petrators to a sad and untimely end. 

The nest point which our passage suggests is, 
that duplicity of intention — I might say multiplicity 
of intention— is possible to man from the constitution 
o£ Ms nature. 

It seems to be a law running through the whole 
of Nature that the highest creatures are also most 
complex in their structure. Vegetables are higher in 
the acale than mere unorganized matter, and vegeta- 
bles are of course constructed on a system — are a 
collection of delicate tubes and fibres, connected with 
the earth on one hand, and the air on the other. Ani- 
mals stand on a level above vegetables, and are far 
more complex in structure, being in fact, in many of 
their properties, vegetables, only with sensibility and 
the power of motion superadded. And among ani- 
mals, the lowest are those whose structure is most 
simple, where one organ perhaps serves the creature 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



xiir.] Of Purity of Motive. 145 

for heart, stomach, liver, and lunga. Then on a loftier 
platform altogether comes Reason; and reasonable 
beings are the most complicated of all ; for they are 
in their lower nature both animals and vegetables, 
only with intelligence, and conscience, and what is 
called in Scripture " the spirit," superadded. 

Now, it is a necessary result of this complexity, if 
I may so call it, of human nature, that man is liable 
to the operation of more than one motive in any 
action. To take the very simplest instance of this, 
by way of making the idea easier, A man may take 
food just as an animal does, to appease hunger. But 
it is clear that he may also talie it with the view of 
preserving life and health Instinces frequently occur 
where food is taken with this intention only, and 
wheie thete is no stimulus of hunger, as when an 
mvibd, ■whose appetite has failed, is ordered by a 
phj sician to take nourishment nevertheless. But in 
addition to the aim of reason m taking food, there 
might be (seen beyond, ind is it ■weie through, the 
aim of reison) an aim of religion The Apostle 
ivntes "Whethei theiefore ye eat, or drink, or 
whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory ol GJod." And 
again : " Every creature of God is good, and nothing 
to be refused, if it be received with thanltsgiving : 
for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer." 
A man may take food with the view of tasting, and 
thereby bringing home to his heart a more lively 
sense of, the bounty of our Heavenly Father, who 
daily spreads a table for all His -creatures, and by 
each meal that He provides answers the Christian's 
Prayer, " Give us this day our daily bread." He may 
also take it with the view of making his body a fitter 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



110 Of Pwiti/ of Moftet [fHAP 

and more eflicient instrument of tlip Divine 5fivice, a 
view whicli would efFci-tiially preclude all intempeiate 
use of God's gifts, and maUe a man s real need the 
law of his appetite This is the simplest instance I 
can hnil of se-venl motives, Mhich might prompt one 
an I the same action But this complexity of motives 
is seen m almost cveiy action that we do Tho'^e 
who knew most of human life and of then own 
heart'-, know that ^ery, vtri/ rately indeed is any 
action done trom one single motive If pleasure or 
recreation be the maiu object, there is generally a 
thought also (except in the very young or \eiy tiuo- 
lous) of some usefulness m the action, as {for e>jimple) 
that it is of use to recruit the mind for serious pur- 
suits. And, converacly, whenever an action is done 
as a duty, and mainly out of a sense o£ duty, there 
are scarcely ever wanting additional stimulants to it, 
in the shape of the approbation of conscience or the 
approbation of other men. 

And these last words surest a thought, which it 
will be much to the purpose of our argument slightly 
to expand. There is one fertile source of complexity 
o£ motive in human actions, which must reeene a dis 
tinct notice This source is the rehtions of man to 
society— lelations these again, by which he is diatm 
guished trom the mfeiior animals In every thing 
that we say or dj (that is, in all our outward con 
duct), we ire under some regard to whit am little 
world will say or thmh of our actions Min is ma le 
for society , and one cv i ience of this is, that thci e is 
in the constitution of his mind such i con&tiQt refei 
eixce to the views and sentiments of his neighbors. 
But then this constant reference, though it is an ad- 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



sm.] Of Purity of Motive. 147 

mirable social safeguard, is very apt to confuse and 
disturb religious purity of intention. My suscepti- 
bility to tuman praise and blame, of ivhich I find it so 
extremely difScult to rid myseif, may be the greatest 
of all snares to me in the spiritual life. Grant that I 
do a certain action with the view of pleasing Grod. 
But is this view really aud truly the only view which 
is influencing me ? Have I no other spring of energy 
but the sole desire of pleasing Christ? Is my eye 
single ? Should I do the action, or should I do it 
with the same zest and interest, if no eyes were upon 
me but God's only ? Certain it is that the eyes of my 
neighbors do exert a most real influence, do fascinate 
me with a real spell, of which it is exceedingly hard 
to disenchant myself. And this circumstance should 
make me suspicious of myself at best, however much 
I may think that I have cleansed my heart of all but 
the highest motive. Take the case of attendance upon 
the ordinances of God, The society in which we move 
exercises in this particular so marked a restraint upon 
the conduct of poor and rich, that, irom the mere fact 
of a man's coming to church, one can conclude nothing 
as to his coming from a spiritual motive. In the coun- 
try you will find many regular church-goers among 
the poor, who, when they migrate to London, and 
locate themselves in some alley'or mews, never cross 
the saored threshold from year's end to year's end. 
What is the account of this inconsistency of conduct ? 
It is very simple. Eyes were upon them in the coun- 
try parish, the eye of the magistrate, the eye of the 
squire, the eye of the vicar, which arc now removed. 
They had no single intention of approving themselves 
in their church-going to the all-seeing Eye ; otherwise, 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



lis Of Purity of Motive. [caAP. 

as that Eye sees them in their garret in the mews, no 
less than it saw them in their rustic cottage, tliey 
would come to church stiU. Nor is the attendance of 
the rich upon religious ordinances one whit less apt 
to be flawed by duplicity of motive than that of the 
poor. In England a man will be regular and punctual 
in his attendance. But what is his regularity and 
punctuality worth 1 You shall see, when he gets to 
3 foreign country, where he is quite out of the reach 
of his visiting acquaintance, and where observance of 
the Sunday is generally disregarded. He takes his 
tone abroad from the foreig;ners, as he took his tone 
at home from his own countrymen. He gets lax in 
his religious habits, soon rubs off his scruples about 
pleasuring on Sunday, thinks it enough to drop into a 
church occasionally and tolerate the sermon; and, if 
his stay in those parts is prolonged for two or three 
years, he comes back to his native land a church-goer 
no longer. His service done to the Almighty in His 
House formerly was such as the Apostle proscribes in 
those pregnant words : " Not with eye-service, as men- 
ple.»rB.» 

"We have now seen that perfect purity of intention 
is the highest spiritual state, a state which probably 
the holiest man has never reached, but to wliich all 
real children of God are in different measures approxi- 
mating. Are we striving for this purity of intention, 
praying for it, laboring for it, seeking to bring tlie 
whole of our spiritual life up to this standard ? It is 
something — nay, it is much — to have a right discern- 
ment of the standard in the spiritual life. Now, the 
standard is this, that all things should be done from 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XIII.] Of Purity of Motive. 149 

the love of Christ, and a consequent desire to please 
HLm, and that we should act smgly firom this motive. 
Real Christians do a large mimber of things which 
are right. But there is still great room for improve- 
ment in these right things ; for there is much defec- 
tiveness of intention in them ; and this defectiveness 
of intention may be, by sel£-esamination, and careful 
attention, and prayer, remedied. 

Ist. By B elf-examination. Let the motives, as 
well as the actions, be scrutinized in self-examination. 
Many and many an action of the Christian looks, like 
an apple of Sodom, fair and attractive externally, the 
heart of which is rotten, and which crumbles into dust 
when we press upon its interior. Let us habitually 
apply, to actions which are outwardly righteous, the 
crucial questions : " Shoiild I have done this, or done 
it with equal zeal, had no eye of man been upon me? 
Should I have resisted this temptation if there had 
been no check upon me from, human law or public 
opinion ? Should I have acted thus faithftilly and con- 
scientiously without the stimulus of human praise?" 

2dly. By self-discipline and care. Let us culti- 
vate pariiculaily, and strive to acquit ourselves well 
in, those actions of the Christian Life which are in 
their nature private, and cannot come abroad. For 
example, private prayer and private study of the 
Scriptures. Exercises such as these are more or less 
a satisfactory test of religious character, because they 
arc incapable of being prompted by human respect. 
No eye of man is upon us when we enter into our 
closet, and shut our door, and pray to our Father 
which is in secret ; and therefore here it would seem 
no motive but a religious one can well intrude. And 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



160 Of Purity of Motwe. [chap. 

we may apply the same retnark to all t!ie ordinary 
actions aad coinnionplacQ business of life, which must 
be transacted by all in some way, aad may be trans- 
acted by the Christian with a spiritual intention. 
What does growino^ in grace mean, but that this 
spiritual intention should lengihen its reach — should 
extend itself more and more to every corner of our 
life? Some little business of routine calls my atten- 
tion at a certain hour, having nothing sublime or ex- 
traordinary in it, but the neglect of which would en- 
tail discomfort and annoyance— a visit, or a letter of 
courtesy, or an interview, in which a few necessary 
words pass, and then it is over. Well; even the 
most earthly of earthly actions, those which are most 
bound up with this transitory state of things, and 
which have no intrinsic dignity or sacredness what- 
ever, may be spiritualized by importing into them a 
spiritual intention. The little courtesies, for example, 
which society requires, maybe yielded simply because 
they are social requirements, in which case they will 
be often, done " grudgingly, and of necessity ; " or 
they niay be r^arded as so many opportunities of 
compliance with the inspired precept, " Be courteous " 
—in which case they will be done cheerfully, " as to 
the Lord, and not unto men." And (generally) the 
meeting all calls upon us, however humble, with the 
thought that they come to us in the way o£ God's 
Providence, and in the working out of the system of 
things which He has appointed, and are indications 
of the quarter in which He would have us direct our 
enor^es, ia a great means of purifying our intention, 
and HO of advancing in spirituality. For nobody is 
aware what is going on in our hearts, when we meet 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



siii.] Of Purity of Motive. 151 

these calls in a devout spirit ; our Mends only see us 
doing commonplace things vehich others do, and give 
us DO credit. But, in So meeting such calls, we have 
praise of Gfod, who, like a good Father, marks with a 
smile of approbation the humblest efforts of His chil- 
dren to please Him, 

I have traced the bearing of the subject on our 
Sanctification. But I must not omit to call attention 
to its bearing on our Justification also. It is possible 
that a man, who judges himself by his outward con- 
duct exclusively, might think with some eoniplstcency 
of his devout, regular, reputable life. But no man 
can do so who, laying to heart Our Lord's maxim 
that the intention determines the character of actions, 
brings his heart with all its motives to the touchstone 
of God's Word. Then it is, if the Holy Spirit co- 
operates with his self-examination, that, catching sight 
of the miserable shortcomings even of his virtues and 
his devotions, he exclaims with the Prophet: "All 
our righteousnesses are as filthy rags." Aiid then it 
is that he looks about for a ground of acceptance with 
God wholly independent of his own righteousness, 
and, finding this assured and stable ground in the 
obedience to the Second Adam unto death, plants 
himself upon that ground escliisively, never more to 
shift therefrom ; and, in his transactions with a holy 
and heart-searching God, puts forward no plea of merit 
but that which is contained in those precious, preg- 
nant words of another Prophet : " The Loyd our 



The connection of singleness of aim with the sub- 
ject of the present work, which is the pursmt and at- 



it,GoOgk' 



153 Of Purity of Motive. [chap. 

tainment of Holiness, will I think be apparent. To 
live holily is nothing else than, in every thiog we do, 
to act ftt)m a single desire to please God, out of love 
to Him, and from no other aim whatever. The more 
we can succeed in stripping ourselves bare of every 
motive save this highest one, the nearer shall we be 
to the standard at the attainment of which we are 
aiming. A double-minded man. is unstable in all his 
ways ; a heart divided between two motives, halting 
between two opinions, cannot plant its steps firmly in 
the way of righteousness. Nor let any one who seeks 
after this simplicity of motive, and sincerely endeavors 
to do all (even the most trivial) tilings, "not with 
eye-service as a men-pleaser, but as a servant of 
Christ, doing the will of God from the heart," be dis- 
mayed by finding that only a yesj partial success at- 
tends his early efforts. By constant watchfulness, 
much ejaculatory prayer, and at first a somewhat stem 
recalling of the mind from its wanderings to its centre, 
progress will be made slowly though surely. God 
never fails to prompt and teach a soul, which is 
simply desirous of pleasing Him. He vpill, if we are 
faithful to Him, show us how to escape the snares of 
a morbid self-consciousness and scrupulosity, which 
seem to the eye of the natural man to beset the path 
we are advocating, and which it is too true the Devil 
knows how to set. A man with his eyes in a right 
condition does not, when he waUts, study every step 
he takes, nor even make the reflection that he is using 
his eyes ; but he guides himself instinctively by his 
eyes, and with their help enjoys the landscape. And 
a man, whose ruling aim is right and single, comes at 
last, through all perplexity, to feel that God's service, 

Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



san/j Of Purity of Motive. 153 

so iar from being a bondage of oppressive restraints, 
13 perfect freedom, and that the only true way {as the 
Psalmist indicates) " of walking at liberty " is, " to 
seek His commandments." 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



I'eace of Conscience and of Heart fcHAP. 



CHAPTEB XIV. 



C THE ELEMENT 



" A LWAYS." The Apostle is imploring for his 
-i^ ThessalonJan converts a state of mind wHoh 
ghall bo absolutely permanent, which shall know of no 
intermission. The same expression ia used where Our 
Lord Bays of the little ones, that their guardian angels 
do ALWAYS behold the iace of Grod ; and again where 
St. Peter represents Christ as saying in the words of 
David, "I foresaw the Lord always before my face." 
The constancy of the Christian's peace, then, is to be 
the same constancy wherewith angela wait on the be- 
hests of God, wherewith the Lord Jesus Himself per- 
petually realized God's Presence. 

And again : " Give you peace by all means " — lit- 
erally, "in every manner." Thus he says of the 
preaching of Christ among the Philippians, which in 
some instances did not proceed from a pure motive : 
"Notwithstanding eveky way, whether in pretence 
or in truth, Christ is preached." There are different 
modes in which, different circumstances under which, 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XIV.] ths EUment of Holiness. 155 

the peace that reigns in the Christian's heait will be 
manifested ; peace will take a somewhat different 
form, according' as the heart is burdened with anxiety, 
or depressed by a sense of sin, or feverish with ex- 
citement, or distracted by business ; and the Apostle 
prays that the Thessaloniana may taste it in every 
form, according' to the special need of the moment. 

Once more : " The Lord of Peace " (He who is its 
Author, and the Source from which it flows) ia here 
called upon to bestow it : " The Lord of peace Him- 
self GIVE you peace." Quite consistently with those 
words of Our Lord, wherein He communicates peace 
as His legacy to His disciples: "Peace I leave with 
you, my peace I give unto you; not as tlie world giv- 
eth, give I unto you." And then He immediately 
goes on to recognize a certain power in the heart 
(with His ai(l, and by His grace) to quiet itself, a cer- 
tain self-control which it must exercise in order to 
realize the blessing ; for He adds : " Let not your 
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." And the 
same power of self-control in the Christian himself is 
recognized in the beautifully soothing woids of St. 
Paul to the Philippians : " He careful for nothing" 
(it lies with us, therefore, to harbor anxieties, or to dis- 
miss them) ; "but in every thing by prayer and sup- 
plication with thanksgiving let your requests be made 
known unto God " (that ia, do your part simply and 
faithfully by recommending your wants to God) ; 
"and" (then God shall do His, the Author of peace 
and Lover of concord shall confer upon you the bless- 
ing, which by your own exertions you could never 
have attained) " the peace of God, which passeth all 
uiiclerBtanding, shall keep your hearts and minds 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



156 Peaee of Conseteiice and of Heart [ch.vp. 

through Cbrist Jesus." — "Hearts and minds j " here 
ia another valuable idea necessaiy to our conceiving 
the subject in its fulness. Peace is needed for Iieari 
and mind both, for the conscience which is apt to be 
burdened ; for the affections and feeHngs which are 
apt to be harassed, wounded, thwarted; and for the 
thoughts, which are apt to stray out of the precinct 
of sobriety, to rove to forbidden subjects, to indulge 
in vain anticipations, to pursue curious and unprofita- 
ble speculations. 

The peace of which we have been speaking is a 
main essential to Hohness. It is not only the root 
out of which Holiness grows, but the strength in 
which alone it can be successfully pursued, and the 
element in which it moves. Its grand importance is 
very emphatically recognized by our Book of Common 
Prayer. As a standing part of the daily Morning and 
Evening OiScc we Lave a Collect for Peace, which in 
the Order of Morning Prayer stands before the Col- 
lect for Grace The £hening Collect for Peace came 
ori^nally toward the close of the Service, and, togeth- 
er with " Lighten our darkness," formed the Church's 
requiem for her children, before they laid them down 
to rest. But see how clearly this noble collect recog- 
nizes the truth that Peace is essential to Holiness : 
" Give unto Thy servants that peace which the world 
cannot give ; that our hearts may he set to obey Thy 
," The firm resolution, in God's 
re Him, and to abide by His wU!, what- 
ever may come of it, cannot be maintained, wliilo 
heart, conscience, mind, are in a turbid state. In a 
violent storm, the needle of the compass is so agitated 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XIV.] the MUinmt of Holiness. 157 

that no direction can be had from it, the vessel's head 
cannot be set right. And, when the inner man is agi- 
tated by storms of passion, or apprehension, or by a 
sense of sin, it is difficult, if not impossible, to rectify 
the intention, and to make the mind's needle point 
true. Christ must say to the internal tumult, as of 
old to tbe winds and waTCS, " Peace, be still ; " and, 
when He has made a great calm, we may then rectify 
our aim, and set forth on our voyage with renewed 
effort. 

We will speak verj" briefly in this Chapter of two 
forms of peace which are essential to the pursuit of 
Holiness, leaving the discussion of other forms for con- 
sideration in future Chapters. 

T, First; in order to Holiness, it is absolutely 
necessary that peaj;e should both be admitted into the 
conscience, and maintained there. 

To admit it, there must be a genuine act of faith 
in the blood and righteousness of Christ — such an act 
as shall shed abroad in the heart a sense of Giod's par- 
doning love, and dissipate effectually the dread o£ His 
displeasure. This act of faith is simply a cordial ac- 
ceptance of God's gift of Christ— an opening of the 
windows of the soul to the glorious, animating sun- 
light of Divine Love. Having performed this act, we 
place ourselves in the condition described by St. Paul, 
when he says, "Therefore being justified by faith, we 
have peace vrith God through our Lord Jesus Christ." 

But the admission of peace once for all is by no 
means sufficient ; it must be detained, after being 
once received. Peace is a very sensitive gnest^ apt to 
take flight at the slightest affront. The conacicDce, 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



158 Peace of Conscience and of Heart [chap. 

once cleared by' faith, must be kept clear by effort, 
aud the tiae of appropriate means, and (crowning' all 
these) by repeated acta of the faith which once cleared 
it. We must brace our spiritual system by healthy 
exercise — the exercise which St^ Paul, the apostle of 
faith, professes that he never jntermitted : "And 
herein do I exercise myself, to have always a con- 
science void of offence toward Grod and toward men." 
But as faidts will accrue, notwithstanding all our 
efforts, and as, the more we advance in the spiritual 
life, the more sharp-eyed we shall become to our 
faults, and the more they will distress us, we shall 
need, in order to the maintenance of peace, periodical 
examinations of the conscience, and a periodical 
opening of the heart to God on the subject of what 
we fmd there. Under certain circumstances it may 
be advantageous to reveal the secretfi of the con- 
science to some spiritual counsellor, partly to humble 
ourselves the more thereby, partly to gain advice suit- 
able to our needs, and partly to secure an interest in 
his prayers. In cases where a man is conscious of 
grievous secret sins, while he has enjoyed a reputation 
for piety, he will often be led to feel that such a con- 
fession to man is essential to his peace — that peace can 
in no wise consist with the consciousness of hypocri- 
sy ; that in no other way can he bo at one with God 
than by being at one with truth. And, as regards 
eases which have not this feature, let it be remem- 
bered that one reason why the sermons of the clergy 
are so pointless is, that they are so rarely admitted 
into the confidence of their people; and that, if there 
were more unreserve in laying bare to them the dif- 
ficulties which we experience in our spiritual course, 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



siv.] the Element of Holiness. 159 

the more ivould the help which there may be in them, 
whether from their study of God's Word, or from the 
commission with which they aro armed, be turned to 
account — however, this discipline of private confes- 
sion, though under particular circumstances reeom- 
mended by our own Church, is certainly not made 
obligatory, either by the Scriptures or the Book of 
Common Prayer. But, fully admitting this, it must 
still be said that we can never safely discard a peri- 
odical examination of conscience, with an exposure of 
its secrela to, and a discharge of its burdens upon, our 
great High Priest This is a part of spiritual disci- 
pline, to which they who will not be at the pains to 
submit are only too likely to drop into a habit of gen- 
eral unwatchfulness, and laxity, and neglect of devo- 
tion — a Labit most congenial to our natural love of 
ease, and entirely falling in with the smooth, self- 
indulgent temper of our age. 

II. The second form of peace, which must be 
maintained in order to Holiness, is peace in the heart 
— peace under the vexations and fretting of life. 

(1) This fretting may arise first from anxieties. 
The right method of dealing with anxieties, and 
maintaining peace of heart under them, is clearly and 
succinctly laid down by St. Paul in the passage al- 
ready quoted from the Fhilippians. MTiatever may 
be your wishes on the subject which makes you 
anxious, refer them to God in prayer (using the sim- 
plest and most direct language), not asking Him ab- 
solutely to bring them about, which might be produc- 
tive of any thing but a happy result, but simply let- 
ting Him know them, and begging Him to deal in the 
matter, not according to your short-sighted views, but 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



160 Peace of Conscience and of Heart [chap, 

as seems best to His wisdom aud love. This exposure 
of tlie heart's wishes to God is a fulfilment o£ tJie pre- 
cept : " Trast in Him at all times, ye people ; pour 
out your hearts before Him ; " it is acting in the spirit 
of Hezekiah, wben he went up into the temple and 
spread Sennacherib's letter before the Lord. Having 
made this reference of your wishes to God, leave them 
with Him, in confident assurance that He will order 
the matter for the best. I say, kave them with Him. 
Drop them altogether. Do not let your mind recur 
to them anymore; they are off your hands now ; they 
are in better hands than yours ; they are no longer 
your business, and therefore they need not — nay, they 
must not — be your care. J£ prudence and caution 
dictate that any thing should be done to avert the evil 
you anticipate, do it, and then think no more of the 
subject, Thinldng of it is utterly fniitlesa : " Which 
of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his 
stature ? " And fruitless thinking is just so much 
waste of that mental and spiritual energy, every atom 
of which you need for your spiritual progress. But it 
is worse than this. It is a positive breach of God's 
precept, " Be careful for nothing " — that is, do not 
give anxiety a harbor in your heart ; let it not find 
there a peg to hang its burden on. Deal with a fruit- 
less anxiety just as you would deal with an impure or 
a resentful motion of the heart. Shut the door on it 
at once, and with one or two short ejaculatory pray- 
ers rouse the will, and turn the thoughts in a different 
direction. The spiritual life of the present moment 
is the one thing needful; as for the evil in the future, 
that may never come ; and, if it does, you will proba- 
bly find that it has been far worse in anticipation than 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



siv.] the Element of Holiness. 161 

it is in lihe reality. The holy ■women on their road 
to Clirist'a Bepulchre anticipated a difficulty which 
threatened to baffle entirely their pioua design, 
" Who shall roll us away the atone," they said among 
themselves, "from the door of the sepulchre?" It 
turned out that they were troubled about nothing. 
When they marched up dose to it, the difficulty had 
vanished, " When they looked," says the Evangel- 
ist, " they saw that the stone was rolled away." 
Take encouragement from their example. Go forward 
in your spiritual course with all the energy of your 
soul. Place the foreseen difficulties in the hand of 
God, and He shall remove them, 

(3) Secondly; fretting and discomposure of heart 
may result from things going cross in daily life, from 
rubs of temper, offences, irritation, and annoyance with 
othei-s. The rule for the maintenance of peace is here 
the same. Never let yovx thoughts dwell on a mat- 
ter in which another has made you sore. If you do, a 
hundred aggravating circumstances will spring up in 
your mind, which wOl make the slightest offence swell 
up to the most formidable dimensions. With a brief 
prayer for him who has offended you, keep your 
thoughts sedulously away from what he has done. 
Try to realize God's Presence ; the realizing it ever 
so little has a wonderfully soothing and calming influ- 
ence on the heart. " My Presence shall go with thee," 
said God to Moses ; and then immediately adds, as if 
that were a necessary consequence of the foregoing, 
" and I will give thee rest," But the great point is to 
let the mind settle. Turbid liquids will clear them- 
selves, and precipitate their sediment to the bottom 
simply by standing. Be still, then. Refrain from 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



163 Peace of Conscience and of Heart, etc. [chap. 

every impulsive action and speech. Make an effort 
to turn the mind, tiE it is perfectly cool and reasonar 
ble, to other subjects. Say secretly, " The Lord is in 
His Holy Temple " (His temple of the inner man) ; 
" keep silence, O my heart, before Him." 

Those who indulge fretful feelings, either of anx- 
iety, or irritation, know not what an opening they 
thereby give to the devil in their hearts. " BVet not 
thyself," says the Psalmist ; " else shall thou be moved 
to do evil." And in entire harmony with this warn- 
ing of the elder Scriptures is the precept of St. Paul 
against undue indulgence of angor : " Let not the sun 
go down upon your- wrath, naither give place to the 
devil." Peace is the sentinel of the soul, which keeps 
the heart and mind of the Christian through Christ 
Jesus. So long as this sentinel is on guard and doing 
his duty, the castle of the soul is kept secure. But 
let the sentinel be removed, and the way is opened 
immediately for an attack upon the fortress. And our 
spiritual foes are vigilant, hoivcvcr much we may sleep. 
They are quick to observe an opportunity, and prompt 
to avail themselves of it. They rush upon the city at 
once in the absence of the sentinel, and do great mis- 
chief in a short time. 

In conclusion : be careful to m^ntain peace in the 
heart, if thou wouldst not only resist the devil, but 
also receive the guidance of Grod's Spirit. That Spirit 
cannot make communications to a soul in a turbu- 
lent state, stormy with passion, rocked by anxiety, or 
fevered with indignation. The Lord is neither in the 
great and strong wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in 
the fire ; and not until these have subsided and passed 
away, can His still small voice be heard communing 
with man in the denths of his soul. 

Ho-odt,Coogk' 



5 hy limng in th& Present 



CHAPTER XV. 

PEACE BY LlVma IN THE PRESENT KATHBE THAN 
IN THE PAST. 

■'• AndHs saidunlo cmol/ia; FoRma Me. But lie said. Lord, suffer 
mejirst io go andbwry Tny faOier, Jesus snid unto Aim, JLet Ihs 
dead bury tJieir dead : bal go (Aou and preach (fix kingdom of 
God." — iiUKK is, 69, 60, 



W'E saw in our last Chapter that peace of heart 
and mind is essential to Holiness ; and we 
traced two of the forms in which this peace manifests 
itself, reserving for future consideration its other forms. 
Peace amid the various distractions of heart and mind, 
incidental to our nature and circumstances, will form 
the subject of this and the following Chapter. 

We shall never know what it is to live in peace, 
until we know what it is to live thoroughly in the pres- 
ent. The assertion startles some of my readers. But 
let them look at it again ; and they will see no reason 
for surprise or alarm, A preposition will sometimes 
make the whole difference in the meaning of a propo- 
sition. I do not say that, in order to the maintenance 
of peace, we should live pok the present — God for- 
bid I (Dives in one parable, and the rich man whose 
ground brought forth plentifully in another, did so, 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



164 Peace by living in the Fi-esent [chap. 

and tasted not a spiritual, but a carnal peace, wliicli 
only deserves the name of ease, a name actually ^ven 
to it in the latter case : " Soul, take tliine ease, eat, 
drink, and be merry.") My assertion was that we 
should live IM" the present, and that, until we have 
learned to do so, we cannot taate of peace. The pres- 
ent has its duties, which are imperative and pressing'. 
We need all the energy of our souls (we have never 
more energy than we can spare ; oh 1 how do the holy 
angels in heaven, whose spirits are always so fervent, 
th g'l tl debt they owe to God is trifling in com- 
pa n f ours, put to shame tlie sad lack of energy 
th 1 t of us 1) — I say, we need all our energy for 
the fulfilm nt of present duties. Christ has said to 
e h ot us at our Baptism, and in our Confirmation — 

s say n^ st 11 by His warnings, His ministers, and the 
inspiratiori of His Spirit (although in a sense different 
from that in wliich He addressed the words to certain 
persons in the days of His earthly pilgrimage) : " Fol- 
low Me." Morning by morning He says to us, as we 
wake up refreshed, and a new day, full of hope and 
promise, dawns upon us by His long-suffering mercy: 
" Follow Me." The task thus imposed is of quite 
sufficient magnitude and difficulty to absorb all our 
faculties. It cannot possibly be done as a by-work, 
b d w busy professional 

{ m Ki ) upy their leisure 

m h h rature. The fol- 

p as a relief or 

mm d it must be our 

m b to take it up at all. 

Ai b b b p it makes a large 

m d p w rs more mind, more 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XV.] rathei- than in the Past. 1C5 

processes of thought and feeling, have to be thrown 
into the following of Christ than into any other pur- 
suit in the world. This being so, the Christian's heart 
and mind must not suffer from distractions, if he is to 
follow Christ successfully. The whole of the heart 
and mind are needed for the present pursuit, which is 
always, in one shape or another, under one vocation or 
another, the following of the Lord Jesus. Such must 
be the rule therefore for the spiritual man : " Whatso- 
ever thy hand findetli to do, do it with thy might." 
Live IK the present. 

But alas ! the habit of the natural man, the ten- 
dency of every mind, so far as it is unrenewed by God's 
Holy Spirit, is to lice either in the past or in the fu- 
ture — to look back with fond and longing regret to 
former days and interests which have faded with time ; 
or else to look forward to some such change of circum- 
stances or position as offers to give a relief and a rest 
which we do not experience at present. To the first 
of these distractions the old, to the second the young, 
are more especially exposed. Both have a tendency 
to sap that peace which lies at the root of Holiness, 
and which, neither wasting vain regrets over yester- 
day, nor aspiring to a brighter to-morrow, is content 
with the PKESENT, and strives to maiie it available for 
Christ's Service to the utmost. 

We wiU consider only the first of these distrac- 
tions at present — the distraction of a fond and mourn- 
ful retrospect. In minds of a certain temperament a 
good deal of thinking and feeling runs to waste in 
this direction. 

Our Lord had observed in one of His disciples (for 
St. Matthew expressly calls the person in question " a 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



168 Peace by living in the Present [chap. 

disoipio ") a tendency to relax in his attendance upon 
Him, and perhaps to return to tlie domestic ties and 
the worldly pursuit which, it Christ's first summons, 
he had quitted. Eeiding the mia's thoughts, His 
Divine Master laid upon htm the call a second time 
more peremptorily : ' Follow Me " Tliia elicited the 
feelings which were working in his mind. He pleaded 
his other's death, the intelligence of which he had 
recently received, and the duty o£ natural piety arising 
therefrom, as a reason, not for ultimately declining 
Christ's call, but for postponing immediate compli- 
ance with it, But he was needed as Gtod's instrument 
to give life to dead souls, not. to consign to the grave 
dead bodies ; and those members of his family who 
had not been, as he had, quickened into new convic- 
tions and spiritual life, might suffice to perform the 
duties of sepulture : " Let the dead bury their dead ; 
but go thou and preach the Kingdom of God." 

We cannot so understand the Lord of Love, who 
rebuked with severity Jewish evasions of the Fifth 
Commandment, and who amid the tortures of the 
Cross made provision for His own Virgin Mother, as 
to suppose that He intended to discourage the plainest 
duties of natural affection. He spoke startlingly and 
iilmost paradoxiiially, as His manner was, in order to 
aj^ouse thought ; and His words are to be understood, 
as they so often are, in their spirit and principle rather 
than their letter. And their spirit and principle is 
this : " A sentiment of nature, however just, must not 
be allowed to interfere with a spiritual call ; nor must 
a fond, lingering regret, for that which in the order of 
God's Proridence has passed away, detain us for a 
single moment from the duty of the peeseht." Let 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XV.] ruther than hi ih- Pa^t. 167 

118 expand the precious thought which Christ thus 
gives us, in reference to the subject which we are 
pursuing, 

I observe, first, that all things (and not men and 
women only) have their time ; and, their time having 
expired, die a natural death, " The fashion of this 
world passeth away." Childhood, with its many 
graces, its innocence, itg simplicity, its prattle, its in- 
genuous ways, lasts but a short time ; beautiful in its 
season, it is as transient as the first violet of spring ; 
the hildr n g up, and become young men and 
won ph ed with the ways of the world.— 

Ag p ni d ways of looking at a subject are 

in a CO of flux ; old opinions are always 

fadi n w opinions (new lights, as some 

call h m w h ols of thought, as others) are con- 
stantly forming and unfolding themselves, and, after 
they have had a certain run, waning again, and losing 
their hold upon men's minds. The political and reli- 
gious controversies of the present day are not those of 
our youth ; controversy has shifted its ground since we 
were children, has left its old questions, as if they were 
no more of interest, and now rages, with all its old 
rage, round a new set of topics. Institutions, too, are 
subject to the common lot of mortality ; even those 
which in their day exercised the widest influence, and 
which men took the greatest pains to root in the earth, 
imder the impression that they would make them per- 
manent, iind themselves, in the progress of thought 
and civilization, supplanted by new machineries, not 
as picturesque or poetical it may be ; but doing the 
work which they formerly did, in a way more adapted 
to the spirit of the times. To take one of a thousand 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



168 FeacQ by liiutj in thi. Present [chap. 

instances whicli might be referred to : monasteries, 
whicli in dark and semi barbarous mt-diseval days were, 
notwithstanding all the abuses incidental to them, 
the great nurseries of Chanty, Learning, and Devotion, 
have long since done their worlc, and yielded to the 
law of natural decay; and have given place (in respect 
of the benefits which they conferred upon manidnd) to 
agencies of a modem style. Poor-laws, Hospitals, 
Religious Societies, Printing-presses, Public Libraries, 
and so forth. It is only tJie principles of Truth, Good- 
ness, and Eight, which are to last forever. The forms, 
in which these exhibit themselves, will necessarily 
vary with the age, and state of society. 

But it is quite the habit of the natural mind — and 
it is a habit adverse to peace, and to the maintenance 
of spirituality — to look back upon the past (whether 
our own individual past, or that of society) with a 
fond, longing regret. We all have something of Lot's 
wife in us ; we linger in our course to take one more 
retrospect of what has attached itself to us by old 
associations, but is now doomed. To begin with the 
changes undergone by society. There are some (and 
these men of piety and learning, actuated by the best 
intentions) who avowedly aim at bringing back the 
monastic system, and try (I cannot say, to resuscatate, 
but) to g-alvanize the conventual life, at all events to 
exhibit the outward show of it to the amazed eyes of 
men far on in the nineteenth century. But the mo- 
nastic system, an excellent instrument for the age in 
wliich it was the one great agency of the Church, is 
now effete altogether. Nor can we with any profit or 
advantage allow ourselves to regret ita many noble 
features, much less to create what, after all our efforts. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XV.] ruthei- than in the Fmt. 169 

■will be oiily a caricattire of it. It was natural in its 
own age ; it is imiiatiiral now. " Let the dead bury 
tbeir dead ; " and go tbou to do thy work for Christ, 
in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, 
with the new implements — Churches, Schools, Hos- 
pitals, or whatever they be — which God hath put into 
thy hand. Then, as to these new forms of thought, 
which are fermenting all around ua, and to which the 
older among us find some difficulty in adjusting our 
opinions. No doubt, looking to the awful disclosures 
made by Holy Scripture respecting the great Apos- 
tasy from the Faith, which shall be a feature of the 
latter days, and looking also at the revolutionary and 
lawless tendency of the age, as shown in political and 
social movements, we are quite right in regarding 
with suspicion, and in narrowli/ questioning and esa- 
amining^ aU nffio-Zangled views, whether religi&us or 
social. And yet there should be a readiness in us, 
though not to abandon for one moment the old truth, 
yet to i-ecognize any new form in which it may be 
presented. We have been brought up to regard 
truth — ^religious, and it may be political and social 
truth also — in one aspect. But Truth is .many-sided, 
like a cube ; and we should never be so tenacious of 
the aspect of it, which is familiar to us, as not to be 
ready to come round and view it under another man's 
aspect. And as for lamenting that progress of thought, 
which is continually presenting the truth in different 
aspecte, such lamentations are as foolish as they are 
fruitless. Must the forms of thought, which satisfied 
men in a former generation, necessarily .content ua 
now? Before they can be expected to do so, you 
must lay a prohibition upon the intellectual growth 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



II'O Peace by living in the Present [chap, 

of tlie species, and bid the human mind, as Joshua 
bade tbe sun, stand still. 

But to come closer liome to the individual Chris- 
tian. The past of our own life has a peculiar fascina- 
tion for us. We think of the days of our childhood, 
and the scenes of our home, with a natural tender- 
ness ; it seems to us that we were then innocent, pure, 
thoroughly happy. And farther on in life, too, every 
old and familiar association has a natural charm for 
us ; never can we experience ag;ain (aa we think) so 
great happiness as in that little house, in which we 
first began domestic life ; never can any friendships 
be so attractive as those with which we were then 
surrounded; never again can the children be so 
dear, as when they were altogether children; and as 
for those whom we have loved and lost, we linger 
over their memories as if they could never have 
equals ; and thus we muse on in the vein o£ natural 
sentiment, ivasting thereby the mental energy which 
is needed for the present following of Jesus : 
" Oh for the touch of a vaniBhed hand, 
And the sound of a voice tliat is Blill ! 
Break, break, break, 
At the foot of thy ctags, Sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that ia dead 
Will never come back to me." 

" A day that is dead" — all days, when they have 
done their work, die of themselves. But shall we 
hang over the corpse of them in fruitless regret, as if 
there were no such good days (a heart-breaking 
thought) in store for our hereafter ? What saith the 
Law ? " Thou shalt not eat that which dteth of 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XV.] rather Hum in the Past. 171 

itself ; " there is no wliolesotne mental food in a 
melancholy retrospect of that which has passed away 
in the natural order of things. And what say the 
Prophets ? "I have spread out my hands unto a 
rebellious people , , , a people that provoketh Me to 
anger continually to My face ; which remain among 
the graves, and lodge in the monuments." The Lov- 
ing Lord, Who invites us to His Bosom in penitence 
and faith, will not have us linger moumfiiUy among 
the graves of the past, or lodge our heart's best affec- 
tions in the monuments of days departed. And what 
saith the Gospel ? " Let the dead bury their dead ; 
but go thou and preach the Kingdom of God," Dead 
souls, and only dead souls, can afford time for pathetic 
plaints over an age that is dead ; as for living souls, 
the call to them is instant and urgent to do the work 
of God's Kingdom, assured that the full establish- 
ment of that Kingdom will gUd the future with a 
brighter ray, a "tenderer grace," than any which 
decks the past. 

But to drop figures and use quite plain speech. Sen- 
timent, if it be sound and pure, is an excellent thing ; 
it elevates and refines the soul. But, in order to be 
sound and pure, sentiment must be in aecordanee with 
truth. Now, the sentiment which hangs over the past 
with an excessive fondness is no^ in accordance with 
truth. The past seems to us now feultless and bright. 
But we know for certain that it was not so. The past 
days, whether of society or of the individual, had their 
sins and sorrows, Uke all other days, which grievously 
blurred and marred them. The days of our childhood 
look innocent and happy in the retrospect ; but in real 
fact we had feults and troubles then as well as now, 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



IIS Peace by living in the Present, ete. [chap. 

although on a scale suitable to our age. In old times 
men were not better or irviser upon the whole than 
thoy are now ; Virtue and Piety have not taken their 
flight from the earth ; no, nor even Poetry, nor Chiv- 
alry, nor Eomance ; but these things, according to the 
law of God's Providence — a law of constant decay and 
renascence — exhibit themselves in a shape different 
from what they wore yesterday. Our memory has a 
trick of deceiving us as to the true state of the case. 
While the present is always dull and prosaic, memory 
sheds round the past the softening hues of the imagi- 
nation. There is an optical illusion something similar 
to this, A landscape which ia very tame and bald 
when we are plodding through the midst of the coun- 
try, looks moie interesting m the blue distance, its 
plain and hard featuies being softened away. 

Let not any man thmk so poorly of the Kingdom 
of God, as to imagme that it will not over>abundantly 
repay all who woik foi it or m it. At the wedding- 
festival with which His Ministry opened, the Lord 
created toward the close of the entertainment wine, 
which exceeded in richness and flavor any that the 
guests had hitherto tasted. And if, dismissing all 
vain and enervating regrets, we do but labor now with 
singleness of purpose for the coming o£ His Kingdom 
in our own hearts, and (as far as we have opportunity) 
in the hearts of others. He, the Heavenly Bridegroom, 
irill give us even now such foretastes of joy, and will 
in the end pour into our souls such an influx of bless- 
edness, that, at every fresh draught of the rivers of 
His pleasures, we shall disparage all previous satis- 
fiictions in comparison of that which we are at present 
tasting, and shall say with the governor of the feast 
at Cana : " Thou hast kept the good wine until now," 

Ho-odt,Googk' 



e hy Ihiing in the Pi'esent, etc. 



CHAPTEE XVI. 



PEACE HY UVING IN" THE PRESENT 
THE FUTlTitE. 

'■'Be content wUh meli Hdngs as ye Sumo." — Hed. xiii. 5. 

IN tlie last Chapter we considered one of the great 
distractions which hinder peace of mind, and there- 
fore hinder Holiness, in the soul of man — the distrac- 
tion of a fond and moumfu] retrospect. "We saw how 
such a retrospect deludes us— what tricks the memoiy 
plays in malting' a pleasing and attractive picture of 
by-gone days, and how she throws over the past the 
softening tints of the imagination. In tnith, the va- 
rious scenes of our life lesemble that to which they 
have been so often compared, the scenes of a theatre. 
In order itat the effect of such scenes may be pleas- 
ing, they must be viewed from a distance. Approach 
them closely, and you see that they are coarsely 
painted on a large, rude scale, and that the perspec- 
tive lines, which should carry the eye into the distance, 
run Tip into the air ; but fell back a few yards, and 
place yourself in the seats of the spectator, and the 
coloring loses all its coarseness, and the picture seems 
no more flat. So it is with our experiences of life. 
'"Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



174 PeOfCe by Umng in tlie Pi-esmit [cuap. 

The distraction wHch we are now to consider is 
that which arises from living in the future — from 
pressing forward in desire to some better, easier, more 
satisfying state than that in which we at present find 
ourselves. 

This habit of mind is very early developed ; and 
yet it does not lose its hold upon iis, untQ we are past 
middle age, and the winter o£ life has settled down 
upon US. In youth the heart bounds up at the pros- 
pect of the future ; for life haa manyplcasurcs to offer 
to the young, of which experience has not yet proved 
the hollowness. What boy has not longed to become 
a man, to be emancipated from the restraints of edu- 
cation, and to be his own master? What young man, 
not yet embarked in any regular pursuit, has not 
longed to. enter upon his profession and to settle in 
life ? And what man, plunged in life's business and 
turmoil, has not sighed for the period whon his affiwrs 
will allow liim to retire, and to enjoy rest at the close 
oE his career ? 

But if this tendency to press forward to some bet- 
ter and more satisfectory future is always seen in 
human nature, whatever its circumstances, it is most 
especiaDy seen in the present age, which, perhaps be- 
yond any other, develops and foments it. The age 
is a most restless one — restless to a morbid and un- 
natural degree. The ease and speed with which 
we are able to travel, the ease and speed with which 
thought can be communicated from one part of the 
world to another, the wide spread of education, which 
is ever making the lower class tread upon the heels of 
the higher, the competition which arises from the fact 
of all pursuits and professions being overstocked, and 

Ho-odt,Coogk' 



xvl] rather than in t!ie Future. 115 

wliich makes the whole of life a race, iu which victory 
is to the swift and strong, and the elow and 'weak are 
pushed aside and trampled under foot — all these cir- 
cnmstaaces create an atmosphere of high pressure and 
excitement, which, if we mis with men at all, it ia 
impossible not to breathe. And the result of breathing 
it is, that we come to consider every stage in U£e only 
as a step to a further stage ; that each man says to 
himself (not avowedly, of course, but in the general 
tendency and bias of hia mind) ; " I must rise in life. 
I must iirst and before all things else get on. I must 
push, and thrust, and jostle until my neighbor falls 
back, and I stand in advance of him. I do not recog- 
nize that I have any fixed place assigned to me by 
God's Providence, and to which more especially my 
natural capacities are adapted ; but there is a variety 
of places, in all of which Grod may be served ; and the 
motto fcff me is, 'The higher the better.' As for set- 
tling down in any one position, and saying, ' Here I 
limit all my desires and aspirations,' that cannot be 
until just the close o£ life." 

But let vs look at this tendency of mind for a 
moment in the light which is lent by Holy Scripture. 
" Having food and raiment," saya the Apostle Paul, 
" let us be therewith content," And again more 
searcbingly, because the reference is not to the supply 
of mere material wants, but to a general change of 
condition: "Let every man abide in the same calling 
wherein he waa called. .... Brethren, let every man, 
wherein he is called, therein abide with Gfod." And 
again in the passage which stands at the head of this 
Chapter : " Be content with such things as ye have ; " 
an inexact translation, however, not conveying a sense 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



176 Peaoe hij Uving in the Presmit [chap, 

by any means so stringent aa the original, whicli is, 
" Be content with the things that are present" (that 
is, not only with the amount of property which has 
fellen to your lot, but generally with your position — 
its duties, its advantages, its dignity), NordidSt. Paul 
prea«h without practising; for in the Epistle to the 
Philippians he avers, " I have learned, in whatsoever 
state I am, therewith to be content ; " and shortly after- 
ward this expreseioa of contentment with his state at 
the time {although he w^is then in captivity) drops 
from his pen : " I have all, and abound ; I am full," 
Nor is this g;reat grace of a cheerful acquiescence in 
the present, whatever it may be, confined to the saints 
of the Qiristian Dispensation. Soothing to the heart's 
natural feverishness is that strain of the Psalmist: 
" The lines" {the measuring-Hues, by which a certain 
portion of ground is marked out) " are fallen unto me 
in pleasant places ; yea, I have a goodly heritage." 
And beautiful with a tender beauty is the example of 
this grace which is given by the Shunammite, who set 
apart a chamber in her house, with a bed, and a table, 
and a stool, and a candlestick, for the reception of the 
Prophet Misha. In acknowledgment of her good offices, 
he sent her a message, as. if she were a child of this 
world, desirous of being repaid in this world's coin : 
" Behold, thou hast been careful for us with all this 
care, what is to be done for thee ? wouldest thou be 
spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host?" 
No I no I Misha had mistaken the woman. Neither 
the king nor the commander-in-chief had any thing to 
offer which was in the smallest degree attractive to 
such a mind as hers. Scope for quiet cultivation of 
the domestic affections, and for quiet fulfilment of home 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XVI.] rather than in the Future. 177 

duties, was all that she coveted. " She answered, I 
dwell among mine own people." She dwelt in far 
Issaohar, divided by the whole district of Manasseh from 
the metropolis of the ten tribes. In that metropolis 
she would be a stranger, however lifted to eminence, 
moving in a heartless circle of formalities and (so-called) 
amusements, for which she had no real taste ; experi- 
encing no afFectioti or sympathy from the visitors who 
thronged her house, nor even from the dependants who 
waited upon her. So she said — and the words indicate 
the power which, even under that earlier dispensation, 
Cod's grace had gained in her heart — ■" I dwell among 
mine own people : " words worthy of a Psalmist, 
worthy of an Apostle— -worthy of him who sung: 
" The lines are fallen uoto me in pleasant places ; yea, 
I have a goodly heritage," and of him who wrote : " I 
Iiave learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to 
be content." Oh that in an age, when men run to 
and fro in restless quest of something which at present 
they have not, when every one, as if by an instinct 
pervading all classes of society, "wandereth from his 
place, as a bird wandereth from her nest," we could 
all regcho her sentiment, and take it up into our 
months with sincerity : " I dwell among mine own 
people" — ■" In my present home I desire to abide, till 
I exchange it for a better and an eternal one ! " 

It is not, however, as a beautiful sentiment, but as 
one of the principles and secrets of a holy life, that we 
are now advocating the duty of contentment with pres- 
ent things- It is becaiiae a cheerful and thankful 
acquiescence in our present condition is so essential to 
spiritual progrt^s, that it requires to be pressed so 
much. We cannot make spiritual progress amid dis- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



ll'S Peace iy living in the Fresent [ciiap- 

tractions of heart, wlietlier those distractions arise from 
a melancholy hankering after the past, or from vainly 
reaching forward to some better and brighter future. 
And at this point a new line of thought opens itself up 
in connection with our subject. It is curious and in- 
structive to observe how the Fall has perplexed the 
original design of our nature, and set the various 
principles of it at work, each upon an end which is not 
its own. There is in human nature a principle of rest, 
which leads us to acquiesce in the present, and a 
principle of activity and progress, instigating iis to 
further attainments. The principle of rest was meant 
to operate upon our earthly condition, and to insiire 
contentment with present circumstances. The principle 
of progress, on the other hand, was meant to operate 
upon om' moral and spiritual attainments, and to ui^ 
us on to a higher standard of goodness. But a sad 
confusion has come in with the Fall, in virtue of which 
each of these prindples works upon that which, in the 
original design of Giod, was the end of the other. The 
principle of rest leads us to acquiesce in a very ordinary 
standard of moral attainment. We satisfy ourselves 
entirely with a reputable life and a decorous and 
devout attention to the externals of religion, more 
especially if these be united with an accessibility to 
religious impressions. How quickly and promptly do 
we, after an access of these impressions, gravitate to the 
earth again and settle down upon our lees, and develop 
that tendency toward self-complacent spiritual stag- 
nation, which is so continually the subject of censure 
in the Holy Scriptures : " Woe to them that are at 
ease in Zion ;" " It shall come to pass at that time, 
saith the Lord, that I will search Jerusalem with 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



vj.] rather than in the Miture. 179 



3s, and punish the men that are settled on their 
lees ; " " Thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with 
goods, and have need of nothing ; and hnowest not 
that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and 
bhnd, and naked." — On the other hand, the principle 
of progress concerns itself with our circumstances, our 
position, and our material welfere. Society in general 
most energetically improves its condition ; and each 
individual member of it exerts himself to the utmost 
not to miss his share in the general improvement. In 
short, if we desired to find words descriptive of the 
restless progress of our ago, and of the aspirations of 
all, who have imbibed its temper, to be something they 
are not at present, we could not find words more suit- 
able than those in which St. Paul — even after having 
sacrificed ail things for Ciirist— describes his own 
ardent pursuit of the crown and palm-hranch, which 
are held out to the runner in the Christian course : 
" Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended ; 
but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which 
are behind, and reacliing forth unto those things which 
are before, 1 press toward the mark for the prize." It 
becomes dear, then, that one thing which we have to 
do in tlie pursuit of holiness is to restore (if I may so 
express it) to their right places and functions the 
acquiescence and the forward impulse, which there are 
in our nature ; to be easily satisfied as regards our con- 
dition, so as not to indulge a wish for the change of it ; 
to be deeply dissatisfied with the little we know of 
God and of ourselves, and the miserably little we do for 
Him. Let our whole care be to serve God in the pres- 
ent moment of our lives ; to taste the peace of the 
present pardon offered to us freely through the Blood 

Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



180 Peace by Uviikj in thf I'resent [chap. 

of Jesus Christ ; to meet faittfuUy the obligations aad 
responsibilities wliich the pacing hour devolves upon 
us ; to improve to the utmost present opportunities 
either of doing or receiving good. It was said o£ the 
Miauna : " Let no man leave of it until the morning ; " 
and, in like terms, of the Passover Lamb : " Ye shall 
let nothing remain of it until the morning." Com- 
munion Tvith God and a walk in the sunlight of His 
countenance are like the manna and the Passover 
Lamb ; they are designed for instantaneous enjoyment ; 
they may not be reserved until to-morrow; theSe 
■viands 'will not keep imtil another day. 

To-morrow ! Another day ! How know we that a 
to-morrow is in store for iB ? that we shall live to see 
another day ? It is this consideration of the precarious- 
neas of life at the best, of its brevity at all events, 
which, if we could fully grasp it in idea, would make 
our present worldly condition dwindle down in un- 
portance to a mere mathematical point. Very strik- 
ingly is this brought out in one of the passages already 
quoted from St. Paul. He is speaking of the con- 
dition of a slave when he writes: " Brethren, let every 
man, wherein he is called, therein abide with God." 

"Art thou called being a servant?" Lesaya, "care 
not for it" (thy earthly position is a matter of no 
great moment ; do not press or push for a change, 
though the change to ie pushed for is nothing less 
tlian liberty) ; " but i£ thou naay^t be made fcee, use 
it rather" (if the option of liberty is given you, you 
need have no hesitation in availing yourself of it '). 

' TJnloss indeed the cl ml in ei nai Sbvasai iletiBepo^ ymMai 
is to bo rendered " although " (lis iiaual force). In whieh cnae 
Ite meaning ivil! be — "nay, although thou mayest be made free, 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



xTi,] rather than in the Future. 181 

But how can an exhortation not to be solicitous about 
a change of position, even when the position is one of 
bondage in a heathen family, be justified ? Such a 
position would seem at first sight to foe fraught with 
so many drawbacks and disadvantages, even in a moral 
and spiritual point of view, that the exchange of it for 
freedom would be worth any exertion, any sacrifice. 
Doubtless, if it should last any considerable time. But 
at longest it is to ending oaly a few short yeara, and 
then the Christian slave, who has ah^eady been de- 
livered from the servitude of sin, shall be emancipated, 
not by the rod of the Prjetor, but with the glorious 
liberty of the children of God. And so the Apostle, 
after bidding Christians " abide with God " in whatso- 
ever condition of life His Providence Lath appointed 
for them, solemnly siuns up his argument thus : " But 
this I say, brethren, the time is short " (literally, the 
season — that remains to us until the coming of the 
Lord, whether to the world at the second Advent, or 
to the individual soul at death— z^ contracted into a 
very brief span). We must work while wo Lave the 
light. We must redeem the opportunity. As for 
secular circumstances and position, we must sit loose 
to them, and not allow them to hold us with too fast 
a grip. " It rcmaineth that they that weep be aa 
uBe it " (L e., slaTery) " rather." But I cannot help thinking that, 
if this had been St Paul's meaning, he would haTe -written raUicr 
oMii Koi d — " but eoen, if thou mayest be made free." The force 
of «oJ is to Hirow Hie emphasis on tho word immediately euoceed- 
iug. 'AIXV d ml Siivaaai, therefore, may mean, "But if thou 
mayeal" (with an emphasis on the mayest) "be made free, hare 
thy fteedom." It is hard to suppose that St. Tan! would ha^e 
eshorled his converts tu prefer slavery to fretdom, where the 
latter might have beeu had innocently. 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



182 Peace hy living in t/te Present [chap. 

though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as 
though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as 
though they possessed not ; and they that use this 
world, as not abusing it : for the fashion of this world 
passeth away," Hence the comparative unimportance 
of our worldly position, which may well soothe away 
any feverish anidety to change it. All differences of 
size vanish in the presence of Infinity. All differences 
of lot vanish in the presence of that tremendous reality, 
which is called Eternity. 

"Eternity! Etornitj! 

How long art thou, Eternity ? 
A moment lasts all joj below, 
W]ierab}> mitn sinks to endless woe. 
A moment lasts all earthly pain, 
Whereby an. endless joy we gain — 

Ponder, Man, Eternity." 

Strive not, ihen, for a change of circumstances. 
Work for God in the present day, as if your horizon 
were bomided by sunrise and nightfiilL How avails 
it to linger in memory over the past, or to long for the 
future ? The past cannot be recalled or altered. The 
future (of Time) may never be yours. You are master 
only of the present. 

In concluding the Chapter, let us just advert to 
another and very different form from that of pressing 
after mere temporal advancement, in which the rest- 
lessness of the present age is manifested. Among 
the many signs of an unhealthy moral atmosphere now 
abroad, is a growing discontent with the doctrines and 
discipline of the Church of our Baptism, of ou' forc- 
fiithers. Devout men, catching unawares the infec- 
tious desire of the times for progress, crave after 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



x\i] lathi thar n, the Futuie. 183 

somethmfr more exciting to tte devotional instinct 
than they conceive the Church of England haa to 
offei "^he haN net ^ipiratnalitj enough, she chills our 
fervor with her fonnalitj , oi,her framework is too 
stiff, too unaccommodating to emergencies ; or, she 
does not indulge in striking appeals to the imagina- 
tion and the senses But I believe that the really 
spiiituol mind, whi(,h is bent upon the attainment of 
HolmeiB as the one thing needful, while ready, of 
course, to m elcome and adopt all improvements, ■will 
not overmuch occupy itselt with projects of change, 
much less wall chensh a desire to stray into other 
Communions, conceived to oflei liiger helps, or fewer 
hmderancea, to the spuitual life "Be content with 
present things," is an exceDent precept for religious 
as ■well as foi worldly diaaatisfactions Surely there is 
scope enough, material enough, opportunities enough, 
helps enough, for serving G!od and benefiting our fel- 
low-creatures, where we are, and under the conditions 
of our present ecclesiastical system. Rather I should 
say there is more than enough of all these; for what 
member or minister of the English Church will say 
tLa,t he has fully availed himself of all the opportuni- 
ties of gaining or doing good, which the existing sys- 
tem (often complained of as so faulty) gives ? How 
then ? Is there something else working at the bottom 
of the heart, besides a desire to serve God faithfully, 
and to advance our own salvation, and that of others ? 
Has the mind formed some ideal of a perfect com- 
munion here upon the earth, such as never was, never 
■will be, never can be realized in an imperfect and a 
transitory world ? Are we dreaming of perfection in 
any Church, untU the Son of Man sends forth His 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



184 Peace hy living in the Present, eh: [chap. 

angels to gather out of His kingdom all scandals, and 
them that do iniquity? No doubt there is a pleasant 
excitement in planning and scheming for a brightei 
and better condition of things. But is not this excite- 
ment apt somewhat to diatract us from the duties of 
the present hour, and the one thing needful f The 
distinctive features of distinct Communions will be all 
swept away at the Lord's Coming, when unity shall 
be restored to the Universal Church, and there shall 
be one flock and one Shepherd ; and possibly, long 
before the Lord's Coining, the keen interest which we 
personally take in these distinctions shall cease, and 
we shall be face to fece with the realities of Eternity. 
Then, if we would follow after Holiness, lot us not 
discompose ourselves with any feverish desires for 
change. Let us say of our ecclesiastical, as well as 
our temporal position : " I am well where I am, Grod's 
Providence has appointed my lot in a Communion, not, 
it may be, free from defects and weak points (where 
is such a Communion to be found upon earth?), but 
certainly Scriptural, and certainly primitive. ' The 
lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I 
have a goodly heritage.' 'Among my own people,' 
in the bosom of the Church which brought me to 
Christ in infancy, will I dwell ; and there will I die ; 
and, until I can fin 1 1 Cxjm u lion which supplies mo 
with more toucl g an 1 solemn words for the occa- 
sion, I shall dot r n tl it the last words read over 
s sh 11 1 tl OS of the OfRcc for the Burial 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



of the Dead." 



xvil] Centripetal and Centrifugal I'orces, etc. 185 



CHAPTER XVn. 

THB CENTlilPETAl, AMD 03ENTEIFUGAL I'OKCES OF THE 
SOUL. 

di& T<nj( /li^^ovrac kXi/pomfieiv nur^piav ; "Are the// noi all 
mmisterinff iipirits, seiii /orlh to minister /or them inho ahaH he 
Ttein o/aahation?'" — Hkb. i. 14. 

AS a starting-point for tbe argument o£ this Chap- 
ter, I shall ask my readers to imagine a case 
which not unJrequently occurs. Let us suppose a 
good and devout person not to have been called in the 
order of God's Proyidence to any regular pursuit — not 
to have any occupation made ready to his hand. Let 
us suppose that he needs not to earn a livelihood; 
that he is born to a position of great affluence, which 
affluence, however, does not involve the management 
of real property. And let us further suppose that 
another equally good man, harassed with overmuch 
secular work, congratulates him on the abundant 
leisure for the exercises of devotion, which his cii^ 
cumstances allow. To which the person congratulated 
rephes thus: "It is true, friend, that I have leisure 
enough (and to spare) for private prayer, the study 
of the Scriptures, and all other ordinances of Religion ; 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



186 The Centripetal and Centrifugal [chap. 

and that so far my lot is a happy one. But I fiud 
myself under a great disadvantage in another respect. 
I have no occupation, and that is a great drawback. 
Highly as I esteem, and much as I enjoy, Prayer and 
the Holy Scriptures, 1 cannot pray and read the Bible 
all day long. My mind recoils from an uninterrupted 
exercise of devotion, and craves for active employment 
as a necessary ingredient of happiness." 

Now, is this recoil of the mind from ceaseless devo- 
tion, and its craving after active work, a disease of the 
mind, or rather pwrt of the min<Fa original eonstitw- 
tion f Is it a really natural instinct ? or is it a result 
of tiie Fall ? Few questions can be more important 
in a practical point of view. For if the desire for 
active work be a really natural instinct, then the life 
of unintermitted exercises of devotion is a mistake, and 
the strivinfj after snch a life, as pious anchorites and 
monks have often striven, is a oramping of the mind 
into an unnatural posture, hkely to hinder its free de- 
velopment. But if, on the other hand, this d^ire for 
active work connects itself with the sin which is in 
us, and with the alienation of the human mind from 
God, which was brought in by the Fall, then no doubt 
we are furthering the great end of oxee existence, only 
when we are engaged in acts of prayer, praise, medita- 
tion, or some ordinance of Religion; and any secular 
pursuit becomes an impertinence as regards the great 
end o£ our being. 

Now, the passage of Scripture, which stands at the 
head of the Chapter, seems to answer this question 
more conclusively than any other. It is true, indeed, 
that it speaks not of men, but of angels, and there- 
fore sofnis at first sight to be inapplicable in detei> 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XVD.] Forces of the Soul. 18'? 

mining a question of hwma/n duty. But mind in all 
rational creatures, whether men oi angels, is a thing 
of the same quality, governed by the same laws, and 
subjected to the same conditions, although no doubt 
differing in the deamesa of its intuitions, according 
to the state of existence in ivhich the creature pos- 
sessed of mind is placed. And In the present instance 
there is a positive advantage in looking at mind, as it 
exists in Angels, rather than as it exists in men. For 
the question before ns is, whether » a certain instinct 
of the mind, which we all find in ourselves, is a part 
of the mind's original constitution, or a part of the 
corruption of our natnre. Now, if we looked at our- 
selves alone, it might not be easy to determine this 
question. Sin has insinuated itself into all our 
thoughts and feelings, has given to all of them a cer- 
tain tinge, so that it might not be easy to say of a 
particular sentiment how far it is due to the original 
constitution of our nature, and how far to the sin 
which has thrown that constitution into disorder. 
But into the nature of the holy Angels sin never en- 
tered; and in them therefore we see mind (or created 
intelligence) in its really original condition, as it came 
fresh from the hands of God. And if any man should 
still demvu" to our deducing from the study of angelic 
nattu« any argument bearing upon human duty, let 
Mm consider that Our Lord Himself makes the service 
which Angels do to God a model of the service which 
men are bound to do to Him. For it is Our Lord, 
who has taught us to pray that " God's will may be 
done upon earth as it is in heaven ; " which words 
surely warrant us in looking to the rational intelli- 
gences in heaven — to what the Word of God has re- 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



188 The Centripetal and. Ccnf,Hfv,gal [chap. 

vealed, and what tho Church of God has received 
respecting them— as furnishing an example of our 
own obligations and duties. 

What is it, then, which God's Word has revealed 
to us respecting the pursuits and occupations of An- 
gels ? Tho passage which stands at the head of this 
Chapter answers the question briefly but exhaustively ; 
and it is most unfortunate that the English translation 
should here fail (as it ftiils very seldom indeed) to ex- 
hibit the point of .the passage. Two radically differ- 
ent Greek words, ■which call up in the niind associa- 
tions of an opposite character, are translated by one 
and the same English word, " minister." " Are they 
not all ministerinff spirits ? " — the word used here ia 
that from which our word " liturgy " comes. It seta 
before us the Angels as priests of the Heavenly Tem- 
ple, engaged in the service of praise and adoration. 
Perhaps the one word, which in English conveys the 
sense most accurately, is " officjating ; " "Are they 
not aM qgioiating spints? " — "Sent forth to minister 
for them who shall be heirs of salvation." Here the 
ministration is not the performance of a devotional 
function, but simply the doing of service. The same 
word ia used where Martha is said to have been cum- 
bered about much serving / where the widovfs of the 
Hellenists are said to have been neglected in the daUy 
ministration (i. e., in the daily distribution of Church 
funds) ; and again where the disciples of Antioch are 
said to have " determined to send relief " (send " for a 
ministration" of temporal resources) " unto the breth- 
ren which dwelt in Judea." So that in the h£e of the 
holy Angels there is an element of worship and devo- 
tion, directed toward God as its object, and an element 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XVII.] Foraes of the Soul. 189 

of active service on beJitilf of Gtod'a children, directed 
toward man. Excellently are Wie two discriminated 
in the Collect for tlie Festival of St. Michael, in which 
we pray, that " as God's holy Angels always do Him 
service in Heaven " (here is the liturgical function of 
the Angels — their devotional life), " so, by His ap- 
pointment, they may succor and defend US upon earth" 
(here is their mimstration to man, the business on 
which Grod employs them). And with this summary 
description of their pursuits agrees most entirely every 
notice we have of tliem in Holy Scripture. Some- 
times tliey are exhibited to us as engaged in worship, 
as when, on the birth-night of Christ, they sing the 
Christmas Anthem, or as when, in the Book of Reve- 
lation, iJiey stand round about the throne and cry : 
" Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, 
and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and 
glory, and blessing." Sometimes, on the other bsiadj 
they visit this lower world upon errands of consolation 
and succor, as when one of them shot down into the den 
of lions, and shut the lions' mouths, that they should not 
hurt Daniel; and another winged his way into St. 
Peter's prison, and disencumbered him of liis chains, 
and led him fortb through bar, and bolt, and sleeping 
sentinels ; and others, more highly fitvored, ministered 
reireshment to Our Blessed Lord after His temptation, 
strengthened and supported Him in His agony, at- 
tended on Him at His resurrection, and composed the 
grave-clothes in so orderly a manner as to refute the 
stupid and lying report that His sacred body had been 
stolen ; and again at His Ascension addressed a spirit 
stirring word to the sorrowing friends who were fol- 
lowing Him with their eyes. It would seem that in 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



190 The Centripetal and Centrifugal [chat. 

Jacob's vision were well symbolized the two functions 
of Angels. Oq the grsuid staircase (for such no doubt 
it was, and not a ladder with rounds), which the Pa- 
triarch saw mounting up with brotid steps to Heaven, 
there were angels of God ascending and descending; 
some with faces turned to God, as in worship, some 
with their shining countenances bent downward and 
their swift feet hastening to the earth, as if intent on 
the relief of man, " offioiating spirits, sent forth on ser- 
vice in behalf of the heirs of salvation." I have only 
to add that in the single perfect exemplification of the 
angelic life upon earth — the life of our sinless Lord 
and Master — constant exercises of devotion went hand 
in hand with constant relief of man's necessities. He 
followed up nights of Prayer by days of toil in the 
service of the ignorant and the suffering. 

In the light of these observations let us look again 
at the case supposed at the beginning of the Chapter. 
The question which was raised in connection with that 
ease is now solved. Tk^e is no sin in that instinc- 
tive desire of external activity, which ice find in owr- 
selves — in that necessity for a definite pursuit which 
all feel, and which those who are without regular em- 
ployment feel painfully. This desire is part of the 
original constitution of our mind, not part of its ac- 
quired depravity. There seem to be two tendencies 
in the original constitution of every upright intelli- 
gence. I may ninstrate them by a reference to tlioso 
forces of the material universe, which are called cen- 
tripetal and centrifiigal. What is it which causes the 
rotation of a planet round the sun ? Krst, there must 
have been the primary impulse given toitby the hand 
of the Creator, when it was first formed and driven 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



xtil] Forces of the Srml. 191 

forth into epaee. But if this ■were the only impulse 
upon the planet, it would simply travel ever farther 
and farther from the point whence it started, coming 
into collision, perhaps, with other similar bodies on ita 
erratic course. But another force, continually pressing 
upon it, binds it to a centre, and keeps it in an orderly 
revolution. Launched into space, it is caught by the 
attraction of that enormous body, the sun, which never 
ceases for an instant to act upon it. It sweeps through 
space still in obedience to ita primary impulse, which 
indeed alone preserves it from felling into the sun ; 
but the power of gravitation confines it to its orbit. 
Now, in the moral and mental constitution of each one 
of us there is something similar to this arrangement 
of the material universe. We are made each one of 
us for work, for a certain sphere of service ; we are 
qualified for this sphere by certain abilities, and sent 
into a fallen world, where there ai'e a thousand tilings 
to be done, in retrieving the effects of the Fall, in re- 
establishing order, in aasuagiog sorrow, in enlighten- 
ing ignorance, in removing sin ; and where also there 
is {at least among all civilized people) an organization 
of society, involving a division of labor and a great 
variety of pursuits. Be the work allotted to us by 
Providence what it may — be it in itself even dry and 
repelling — the mind can create an interest in it, by 
simply throwing itself into what has to be done. But 
then this throwing his mind into a pursuit is not the 
sole condition of a man's happiness. We feel that it 
is not, whenever our pursuit wearies our spirits, when- 
ever we commit omselves, witiout an attempt at self- 
oontrol, to the interest of the hour, whatever that may 
be. We soon come to the bottom of any interest. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



193 The CenU-ipetcd and GetTfy-tfugal [chap, 

however Iiigh and pure it may bo, whether it be an 
interest in Science, or in Literature, or, better still, in 
B, philanthropio scheme. Our interests are something 
like our horees, very pleasant to ride whUe they are 
fresh, but wearing and wearying to their riders when 
they are overridden. And why is this, but because 
there is another condition of man's happiness, ovsr and 
above the having a pursuit ? The soul, in order to be 
holy and happy (they are only two sides of the same 
thing), must be continually drawn in toward its cen- 
tre. Now, God is the centre of l3ie soul, wbo alone 
can satisfy all its aspirations after light, and truth, and 
good. This bias of the soul toward God, this pro- 
found gnawing feeling of unrest out of Him, is the 
soul's centripetal force, jiist as the craving after work 
is its centriftigal force. And tibe due operation of 
both the forces together, the recognition of God while 
wc are busily engaged in the work which He has given 
us to do, the turning toward Him in heart while our 
hands are executing His tasks, or our feet speeding on 
His errands, this is the path taken by the mLad, when 
obedient, not indeed to the law of the Fall, but to the 
impulses given it at its Creation. It is an orderly 
path, and therefore a peaceful and happy path, the 
only path which can (I do not say gratify, but) satisfy 
and content the spirit. 

But then observe that, in order fully to realize the 
effect, there must be an interlacing of the recognition 
of God with our business, not a separation of the two. 
There is many a Christian who reaches nothing niore 
than this {nay, who aims at nothing more), that devo- 
tion shall hnve its little hour in the day, and business 
its long hcjrs ; and great is his complacency, if the 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XVII.] Forces of the Send. 193 



. hours are not allowed to trench upon tlie 
hour of devotion, I am not Eaying any thing against 
stated periods of devotion ; they are absolutely essen- 
tial, and it is only too certain that in the absence of 
stated periods the spirit of devotion would evaporate 
altogether. But I am saying that the soul ■will never 
taste a full satisfaction, nor travel in its appointed or- 
bit, until it has learned, more or less {using ejaculatory 
prayer as its instrument) to mix devotion with work. 
The planet does not at one time travel in obedience 
to the centrifugal, and then again in obedience to 
the centripeta! force ; but at every moment of time 
both forces are aeting upon it, the one speeding it on 
its course, tlie other drawing it in toward the sun. 
The Boul must not leave Gtod for an instant, if it is to 
be perfectly joyous and contented. Let it take but a 
step away from Him, and it is at once in a region of 
excitement and unrest, and so far forth of danger. 
The condition of the soul, when in its orbit, is well 
represented by these words of Hele's Devotions, 
which have often struck me as singularly beautifid 
and edifying : " Grant that I may walk before Tbee in 
a constant awe of Thy aaered Presence, and in such 
a devout and heavenly frame of mind, as may lead me 
to be frequently lifting up my heart to Thee, in acts 
of adoration and thanksgiving, of resignation and de- 
pendence." Remember that the New Testament 
Prayer Precept makes unbroken communion with GiDd 
obligatory upon us. It names no seasons for prayer, 
or rather, it names every season: "Pray without 



My reader, I do not ask whether you liave com- 
pletely acquired the habit of interpenetrating your 



it,CoOgk' 



194 Th6 C'&niripeial and Centrifugal [chap. 

daily employments with tlie spirit of devotion (that 
is the case with none of us, least of all probably with 
the present writer) ; but are you placing this before 
you as your standard, and sincerely iryiag to reach 
it ? Ejaculatory prayer is the great means of reaching 
it. Do you ever use ejaculatoryprayer? Do you ever 
lift up youi heart to God in the midst of your worlc, 
praying Him to shield you from temptation, to bless 
you in what you are doing, and, at all events, not to 
let you wander very far from His side? Do not say it 
is impo^ible ; for to this and no lower standard you 
are called, both by the constitution of yotir nature, and 
by the precept, "Pray without ceasing;" and by the 
grace of God all thiags which He commands are pos- 
sible. You will say, perhaps, " I try to keep tny mind 
continually in the right track; but alas! it is thrown 
off its balance a thousand times a day, by having to 
do thiags in a huny and against time ; by a warm 
conversation ; by a piece of interesting news ; by do- 
mestic worries and cares j by little mbs of the tem- 
per." So it is most truly. The mind wants steady- 
ing and setting right many times a day. It resembles 
a compass placed on a rickety table ; the least stir 
of the table makes the needle swing round and point 
untrue. Let it settle, then, till-it points aright. Be 
perfectly silent for a few moments, thinking of Jesus ; 
there is an almost divine force in silence. Drop the 
thing that worries, that excites, that interests, that 
thwarts you ; let it fall, like a sediment, to the bottom, 
until the soul is no longer turbid; and say secretly: 
" Grant, 1 beseech Thee, merciful Lord, to thy faithful 
servant pardon and peace ; that I may be cleansed 
from all my sins, and serve Thee with a quiet mind." 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



KTii.J Jbcces 0/ tU Soicl 195 

Yes I with a quiet mind. We cannot serve Him with 
a turbid one ; it is a mere impossibility. Thus com- 
posing ourselves from time to time, thus praying, and 
setting the mind's needle true, we shall little by little 
approximate toward that devout frame, which binds 
the soul to its tnie centre, even while it travels 
through worldly business, worldly excitements, worldly 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



196 Of the j^ecessitij of an Occupation, [chap. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



i NECESSITY OV AH OCCUPATION", AND OP THE 
KIGUT WAY ( 



" Seeaiise he was of ifte same cra/l, lie abode loUhihem, and leroaghi: 
for by Gieir occupation tkeff imre teat-makera." — Acra xviii. 3. 

ST. PAUL, like every other minister of Christ's 
Grospel, had a right to receive support from the 
persons to whom he ministered. But there were 
good, reasons why he did not see fit to avail himself 
of this right. In the first place, he wished to make 
himself an example of quiet industry to his converts. 
Some of them, who wanted mental ballast, had been 
unduly excited and thrown out of the groove of their 
ordinary pursuits by the revelations of Christianity, 
and by the influences which the Gospel brought to 
bear upon them ; it would calm and sober them, and 
help to bring them back to a regular life, if they saw 
their Apostle, a man who had been favored with the 
most extraordinary revelations, " caught away as far 
as the third heaven," "caught away' into Paradise," 

' Our yersioij " caaght up " ia in both eases inacourate. There 

is no preposiUon to repreEeut "up." The words are ipnaysma 

. . . ^furdjij. Au upward direclJon maj be implied in the ease 

of " the third heaven ; " but in that of " Paradise," not so. For 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XVIII ] and oj- the Right Way of pursiiinff it. 19? 

earning his bre^d by laboimg it a common handicraft 
in the intervals of his ministiy Again: he was 
pleased to be iblt, to IplI that his preaching' was 
1 ituitous, which it could not hive been had he 
rtepted piyment for it It was a satisfaction to 
know that, ra earning his bread by a trade, rather 
than by his ministry, he w as doing something more 
than he was strictly bound to do, something which he 
might have left undone without sin. Again, the 
having a trade gave him scope for the exercise of two 
most important Christian graees, Self-denial and 
Almsgiving. The estra work and weariness, which 
the trade entailed, was a means of keeping under his 
body and bringing it into subjection; while the 
money which it brought in to him was employed in 
i-eiieving the wants of others as well as his own ; for 
he says to the elders of Ephesua: "Yea, ye your- 
selves know, that these hands have ministered unto 
my necessities, and lo them that were with me, I have 
showed you all things, how that so laboring ye ought 
to support the weak, and to remember the words of 
the Lord Jesus, how He said, It is more blessed to 
give than to receive." So St. Paul, impelled by 
these motives, as also, doubtless, by the example of 
his Divine Master, who up to the age of thu-ty had 
followed the trade of a carpenter, "making" (as 
Justin Martyr informs us) "ploughs and yokes for 
oxen " — St. Paul, joining himself in partnership with 
Aquila and Priscilla, became a manufacturer of hair- 
cloth or leather tents, having learned that trade in 
bis youth, according to the wise maxim of the Jewish 

" Paradise " is the place of departed spirits, cDiieeived of by Ihe 
Jews as in the centre (or heart) of the earth. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



198 Of the ITeeessUy of an Oooiipatiati, [chap. 

Eabbis, ■wito said that every boy ehould be taught a 
trade, upon which he might fall back for a mainte- 
nance, in case of necessity. 

The Apostle no doubt found his account in his 
trade, though it imposed upon him toils and cares, 
■which to a spirit less ardent than his might have 
seemed superfluous. Independently of the conscaous 
security which there was in the self-denial of such a 
course, independently also of the blessedness o£ giv- 
ing for the relief of others, which his trade enatfled 
him to taste, there must have been a ballast given to 
his mind by work, very necessary to steady it when 
it was rocked (as it often was) by strong emotions, 
or lifted up to high contemplations. And it should 
be remarked that the work, being a handicraft, left 
hia mind comparatively free for prayer and medita- 
tion, with which it cannot be doubted that he was 
continually feeding it. One can imagine that God 
would often visit him in his work with high and ele- 
vating, and even entrancing thoughts, which would 
more than compensate for the bodily weariness it 
most have entailed. This would have been quite in 
accordance with the usual plan on which Divine visions 
and Divine calls are vouchsafed. Gideon, threshing 
wheat by the wine-press, is greeted by an angel of 
the Lord. Elisha's path, as he ploughs witJi twelve 
yoke of oxen, is crossed by Elijah, who throws his 
mantle upon him. David is tending the sheep, when 
he is fetched out of the field to be anointed and saluted 
liing, Matthew, as he pores over his accounts, and 
enters in his books the payments made to him at his 
oiEce, is called to be an Apostle. Peter, ag he draws 
his net to shore, has a manifestation made to. him of 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XVIII.] and of the Right Way of pursuing it. 199 

the Divine power, which bringa him to the Saviour'a 
kiiees. On the eyes of tlie wise men, as they gaze 
upon the starry heavens, dawns the star of Bethlehem, 
which announces the Saviour's birth. And possibly, 
aa St. Paul was stitching together the goat's-hair, 
which was the material of his trade, the slight and 
temporary nature of the habitations he was manufiic- 
turing may have crossed him, and then there may have 
come sweeping acrosa his mind grand thoughts of the 
fleeting nature of the body, which is the soul's tent, 
and of the durable mansion which Grod will provide 
for the spirit hereafter ; thoughts such as he expresses 
in that most solemn passage of one of his Epistles : 
" For we know that if our earthly house of this taber- 
nacle" (literally, "of the tent") "were dissolved, we 
have abuilding of Grod, an house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens." 

In our last Chapter we saw that there are two 
forces in the soul of man, standing quite independent 
of the sin that is in him, and which we ventured to 
call the centrifugal and centripetal forces of the soul, 
the one driving him into the outer world, and urging 
him to active work in the path of duty, the other 
drawing him in, even while he so works, toward God, 
who is the soul's true centre of repose. Having paid 
some attention in the earlier part of the work to the 
latter of these two forces ; having spoken at some 
length on the contemplation o£ God, on faith in God, 
on the love of God — we will dOate briefly in this 
CSiapter on the other force, which drives the mind 
into things external, and corresponds to the impulse 
given to planets at their creation, in virtue of wliich 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



SOO Of the Ntcessity of an Oaoitpaiion.^ [chap. 

they travel oa their appointed paths. Consider, then, 
the necessity to Holiness, and therefore to happiness, 
of an outward occupation : " He abode with them 
and wi-ought : for by their oceupaHon they were tentr 
makers," 

Let US see what hints, likely to be practically use. 
ful in the pursuit of Holiness, can be given on this 
subject. 

Of course, for the larger class of people there is an 
occupation made ready to their hands. Most men-— 
all but the few who are bom to independence — have 
a pursuit (a profession or a trade) by which they earn 
their livelihood. Their own leanings, or the destina- 
tion of their parents, or dccurastances over which they 
have had no control — anyhow, tlie Providence of God^ 
by some of its manifold drawings— has assigned to 
them this line of life, with the particular duties in- 
volved in it. The chief advice, then, that is needed 
here is how to draw into spiritual account, and to 
make available for the purposes of the spiritual life, 
that task which is of daUy recurrence and obligation. 
And in order to this, let it be firmly settled in the 
mind, before we put our hand to our work, and let us 
suffer the mind from time to time to revert to the 
thought, that what we are about to do is the task 
assigned to us in the order of God's Providence, that 
it is a task which He will inspect, and that it must be 
executed as well as ever we are able, in order that it 
may meet His approval. There are children, who axe 
too young to be left alone in the preparation of their 
lessons. The teacher must sit with them, while they 
prepsu^ ; tliey must work under his eye, and have 
him by them to apply to and aslc help from, when they 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XVIII.] and of the Might "Way of pursuing it. 201 

come across a difficulty. Now, some o£ the deepest 
lessons of Divine Truth arc to be learned from our 
management of children; and the way of so doing' 
■work, as that it may be a source of spiritual consoW 
tion and strength, is among these lessons. Do the 
■work under the eye of your Heavenly Master ; and 
look up in His fece fixim time to time for His help and 
blessing; an internal colloquy ■witli Him ever and 
anon, so far from being a distraction, ■will be a furthei^ 
ance. For no ■work can in any high sense prosper, 
■which is not done ■with a bright, elastic spirit ; and 
there is no means of keeping the spirit bright and 
elastic but by keeping it near to God, Another point 
is, never to allow ourselves to think of our work as a 
distraction or a hinderance to piety. Regard it in its 
true light, morally and spiritually. Think of it as 
contributing to healthfulness and cheerfulness of mind, 
aa a steadying and sobering influence, preventing 
those extravagances into which without it the mind 
might run. Remember also how often in the Scrip- 
tures G>od has come across simple men in the way of 
their daily task — come across them miraculously in 
the instances cited above — but He is as ready to meet 
them now on the field of commonplace occupations, in 
the ordinary methods of His Providence and His Grace. 
Do but keep as close under His eye, when working, 
aa j'ou can contrive to do, and open your heart to Him 
as often as you can ; and you shall doubtless hear His 
whispers in your conscience, and experience the instil- 
ment of some good and elevating thought into your 
mind. But the most importaiit point of advice in an 
age like ours, when men in all conditions of life are 
1 with work, and in a country like ours, 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



203 Of the, Neoessity of an Occtcpatioti, [chap. 

wliose inhabitants are so little meditative and so con- 
stitutionally busy, is to aim rather at doing well what 
we do, than at getting through much. Francis of 
Sales thought that the great bane of the spiritual life 
in most men is that eagerness and undue activity of 
the natural mind, which leads to precipitancy and 
hurry. He states his case too strongly, as all men are 
apt to do, who think they have got hold of an impor- 
tant secret ; but there is valuable truth in what he 
says. Hurry — the struggle to get through a great 
deal in a short time, as every one is naturally prompt- 
ed to do, who finds his table covered with correspond- 
ence as thick- as a field in the Polar regions with snow, 
and feels that without an extraordinary effort to-mor- 
row's duties ■will come crowding in on the heels of to- 
day's work — is very prejudicial to our moral and spir- 
itual well-being. The eager impulsiveness to wipo 
away work, and get well rid of it, is not a temper in 
which spiritual progress can be made. It was the 
snai-e into which Martha fell, who allowed herself to 
be " cmnbered about much serving ; " she might have 
served, and it was necessary and proper that she should 
serve ; but it was neither necessary nor proper to " be 
cumbered." The Apostle enjoins that we shall " not " 
be " slothful in business, but fervent in spirit, serving 
the Ijord." " Not slothful in business " — that is, not 
lazy, while busy. But is not this a contradiction in 
terms? How can a man be lazy while he is busy ? 
The esperience of every much-occupied man fur- 
nishes a ready answer. We may be spiritually 
laay while busy, and by being so may let all our 
work run to waste, as regards any real fruit of it. 
To work with a fidgety, anxious, uneasy mind, not 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XVIII.] and of the liight Way of pw&uing it. 203 

Betting Gtod before us ■wtile we work, but thinking 
only of tlie Liindred-and-one other calls, which wo 
have to meet as soon as this is satisfied — this it is 
to be lazy while we are busy. Surely a vast num- 
ber of people in the present day know what this tem- 
per of mind is. And what is the remedy ? The rem- 
edy is to reeommend the work to God, and humbly 
ask His blessing and His aid, as we may do with the 
utmost confidence, if the work be really that which His 
Providence has assigned to us ; then, resolutely to 
refuse to attend to more than one thing at a time, 
and to let every thing else drop, till that one thing is 
done. Other things must wait. Some of them we 
shall be able probably to do by-and-by. Not a few 
of them will do themselves. And some of them, may- 
be, we shall have to leave undone. Let us not be 
disquieted. If the spirit of the doer have been right, 
all wiU be well. And the right spirit is not one that 
ia "careful and troubled about many things," but col- 
lected, calm, fervent, angelical. Is not God's will to 
be done in earth, as it is in heaven ? And can we 
imagine distraction, or precipitancy, or restless im- 
pulsiveness among the angels in heaven ? The devo- 
tional writer already referred to says admirably well : 
"Rivers which glide peaceably through the valleys 
bear great boats and rich merchandise ; and the rain 
which falls gently on the fields makes them fruitful in 
grass and corn; but torrents and rivers which run 
rapidly ruin the bordering country, and are unprofit- 
able for traffic; and vehement and tempestuous rains 
furrow the fields. Never was work well dono with 
too much violence and earnestness." So much for the 
n. which we should strive to execute the work 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



304 Of the Ifecessity of an Occupation, [chat. 

of our calling, — But, in very many (if not absolutely 
in all) pursuits, there are leisure moments and occa- 
sional intermissions. Tliose who nourish a high 
spiritual ambition ^vill endeayor to tuni these also to 
spiritual account. They will feel that just as a ne- 
cessity to preach the Grospel was laid upon St, Paul, 
a necessity which he could in nowise escape from, so 
our ordinary pursuit, whatever it be, is made obli- 
gatory upon us by the imperative demand of our daily 
wants. However devoutly we may work, we are 
worldng for ourselves, when we follow our trade or 
our profession ; for it is by this craft that we have our 
wealth. But in our leisure moments it is open to us 
to do something gratuitously for the cause of Christ 
— either in one form, or other to give labor to His 
cause, or by extra work to procure the means of fur- 
thering it. This is what St. Paul did. Though the 
care of all the Churches devolved upon him daily, and 
the due discharge of his ministry must have been, one 
would think, more than sufficient to engross his every 
leisure moment, yet he took up again the trade which 
he had learned in his youtli, though he was under no 
obligation whatever to do so, and thus had the deep 
satisfaction of feeling that in his ministry he was 
worldng unpaid for the Master, whose free grace liad 
done every thing for him. Truly a sublime and he- 
roic generosity ; and one which, at however long a 
distance, it is possible for modem Christians tti imi- 
tate. There are many fields of Church work, in all 
of which labor and money are sorely needed. Might 
not the professional man, might not the tradesman, 
give labor (either personal or remunerative) in one of 
those fi.elds? Is there nothing which we might do 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XVIII.] and of the Mhjht Way of pttrsxing it. 305 

for the cause of Christ, if so disposed, in leisure hours ? 
This answer will rise to the lips of many readers : 
" My regular work puts such a strain upon me, that I 
find myself fit for nothing — ^more dead than aliye at 
the end of the day," IDoubtless it may be so. And 
probably our overwrought modem civilization, habit- 
uating generation after generation, as it does, to soft- 
ness of life, has enfeebled the constitutions of all of 
us, and made us less equal to hardship? than were 
men of old. Still we must not blink the great fact 
that a more responsible and more anxious o^'cupation 
than St, Paul's never yet fell to any man's lot ; and 
yet that he found time, by honest industry, to earn 
enough to support himself and relieve the wants of 
those around him. ProbaUy, if we could do our work 
in a brighter and less anxious spirit, it would wear us 
less. It is worry, not work, that wears. And then, 
in the case of our undertaking, irt our leisure momenta, 
some gratuitous Church work — ^be it school teaching, 
or District visiting, or mere extra labor to earn money 
for charities — there would always be the thought of 
its being gratuitotts to uphold us, and a feeling also 
of security, from the circumstance of self-denial, which 
we are at ail times so prone to evade, being wrought 
into the plan and texture of our life. 

I have spoken of caa^ (and these ate, at least 
among men, the great majority) where persons have 
a definite occupation, a line of life marked out for 
them in the way of a trade or a profession. But what 
shall we say of those who are not called upon to work 
for a livelihood, and whose only regular business is 
the administration of a property or of a household, 
which, whUe it may be under certain drcumstanoes 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



306 Of the JSfeoessity of an Occupation, [chap. 

heavy, may also be so light as to allow long intervals 
of leisure ? Is not reading, it might be said, the Buit- 
able occupation for such people ? For reading, if in- 
telligently pursued, ia a means of cultivating the mind 
and of self-improvement, which doubtless should be 
one great object with all thoughtfiil and earnest per- 
sons. But surely mere reading, without any outcome 
of the study in the shape of writing or teaching, hardly 
constitutes by itself such an occupation as the Ohrie- 
tian mind craves after. It is hardly suitable that, in 
a world full of ignorance, misery, and sin, and where 
the ignorance, misery, and sin, may be greatly reheved 
by our faithful and pious endeavors, a man or woman 
should wrap themselves up even in the improvement 
of their own minds. Let us be quite sure that, in all 
such cases, some definite work, with a definite bearing 
on the physical, intellectual, or moral good of our fel- 
low-creatures, is an essential to Holiness, and to that 
inward joy and peace which is the very element of 
Holiness. As I said above, there is no lack nowadays 
of posts of usefulness ; the lack is of persons to fill 
them. There is a large field of Church work open to 
US at home and abroad — rough work niuch of it, dis- 
heartening work much of it, and therefore manifesting 
only the more principle in those who talte it up and 
carry it on. Let every unoccupied Christian choose 
one of these fields of labor, determining which it shall 
be by the little pointings of God's finger in Provi- 
dence, and by the direction in which his instincts, 
powers, and capacities, lead him. We read in the 
Scriptures of whole households taking on them some 
one department of Church work, giving ^umi to their 
efforts by devoting themselves to one, and consistency 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



xriii.] and of tJie RigJit Way of pursuing it. 30*? 

by the combination of the various members of the 
family — "Ye know the house of Stephanas, that it is 
tlie first-fruita o£ Achaia, and that they have addicted 
themselves to the ministry of the saints," to some ser- 
vice lor the saints — perhaps to the exercise of hospi- 
tality. Why should it not be so now? Circum- 
stances no doubt are widely different, and must mod- 
ify the form of the service ; but the principle that eaeh 
Christian should do what in him lies to further the 
great work of the Christian Church can never pass 
away, however various its applications may be. 

Finally, I must give a rather fuller development to 
a thought which has been brought before us in the 
prosecution of our argument — the advantage which in 
one important respect manual work has over mentaL 
It is analogous to the advantage which generally, in 
spiritual matters, the poor and ignorant have over the 
rich and cultivated. It is the spirit, or rational fee- 
ulty, witli which God, who is a Spirit, must be served. 
That the outward pursuit, then, should make as little 
demand upon the mind aa possible, that the inner 
man should be left as iree as possible to turn toward 
God at any moment, is an advantage of which a de- 
vout soul may avail itself. St. Paul's thoughts doubt- 
\e.ss were often with his blaster, while he was making 
his tents. And those who covet above all things a 
closer communion with Grod, will assuredly think no 
scorn of an occupation which engages the hands rather 
than the thinldng faculty. Doubtless intellectual pur- 
suits are, in the order of things, nobler than a common 
handicraft. But there is " a spirit," as well as a mind, 
in man. And if a handicraft gives greater scope for 
the action of the spirit — if the husbandman as he digs 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



308 Of the Necessity of an Occupation, etc. [chap. 

his field, the lace-woman as she plies her bobbins, the 
shepherd as he tends hia flock, nay, the boy set to 
keep the birds from the crop, are at least fee to feed 
their spirits the while with the thought of Grod's 
power, wisdom, and goodness, they are more than 
compensated for their intellectual, loas by tiieu- spir- 
itual gMn, and they find consolation and refcshment 
in place of the weariness of merely mental eflbi't — a 
weariness thus commented upon, in accents of bitter 
disappointment, by the wisest of men : " Of making 
many books there is no end ; and much study is a 
3 of the flesh," 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



xix.] Self-sacrifice a Teat of the Love of God, 



CHAPTER XIX. 

SELF-SACEIPICE A TEST OF THE lOVE OP OOD. 

" Attdwhen He juas gone forth into ilix Tuay, Ijiei-e cams one,i-un- 
King, and kneeled to Him, and asked Him, Good Master, loh'af 
sltall I do that I mat/ i-nherU eternal life ? And Jesu» mid unto 
Mm, Wh^ eallcsl thaic Me good I there ia none good hiii One, 
that is, God. Thau hnoioeit the eonanimdments, Do not commit 
adulters, I>o not kiS, Do not steal. Do not bear false viUness, 
Defraud tiot, Honor thyfatiier and molhsr. And he anmoereil 
and said unto Him, Mas^, aU these Mve I obsaved from my 
youth. Then Jesus b^iolding himhvsd him, and said tmlo him. 
One thitig thoa lacked: go thy way, sell whaisoetier &im liaet, 
and give to Stepoor, and thoa ahalt haw treagure in heaeen: and 
DOiae, take up the cross, andfolkvt Me." — MiBK i. l'J-21. 

OUR subject in tliis little treatise is the pursuit of 
Holiness. Now, tlie spring and motive of all 
r-Tnliness being tbo love of God, we have enlarged 
upon this grand topic in several of the Chapters, aud 
have spoken much of the beauty and blessedness of 
the Divine character, as having a tendency to attract 
toward God the hearts of men. But the general 
complexion of the subject, and the tenor of our re- 
marks upon it, have made it qidte necessary, in bring- 
ing our argument to a close, to say one or two words 
of solemn warning. It is very easy to delude our- 
sdves into the notion that we have the love of God, 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



310 Self-aaorijlce a Test oftJie Love of God. [chai'. 

aad are under its influence. It is easy at aD times to 
mistake a sentiment for a principle, a transient feeling 
for a deeply-rooted affection. And therefore the Holy 
Scriptures, whicli aim at implanting and nourishing, 
not sentiments but principles, while they supply xts in 
the Psalms mth aspirations after God, which can only 
proceed from genuine love, and while they set forth 
everywhere the beauty and attractiveness o£ His 
character, are careful to furnish practical testa of a 
very stringent kind, whereby we may try our hearts 
and ascertain how far they are really under the em- 
pire of Grod's love. One of these tests I shall consider 
on the present occasion, reserving another for the fol- 
lowing Chapter. 

The interview of the rich young man with Om- 
Lord is one of those many incidents, which derive im- 
portance from being recorded three times in the New 
Testament. There are few passages of Scripture the 
teaching of which is more apt to be misunderstood. 
The key to it is to be found in the circumstances of 
the young man, and in what transpires of his char- 
acter. He was " very rich," " had great possessions ; " 
his circumstances, therefore, gave him no trouble ; he 
never knew what it was to be straitened. He was 
" young ; " and therefore we may assume that he w:^ 
in health, and had all that bright sanguineness and 
eneigy which only health can give. He was " a 
ruler," possibly the president of some synagogue, ono 
therefore for whom his position gave a sort of guaran- 
tee that he was a man of virtue and piety. And to a 
great extent he really was so. Ho had observed, at 
least in the letter, the commandments of the second 
Table ; and that his observance of them was, so far as 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XIX.] SelfsaGi-ifice a Test of the Love of God. 311 

it iveiit, commendable, and had really proceeded from 
a principle of duty, we may gather from the circum- 
stance that, ■when he mentioned it, Our Lord seems to 
liave smiled on him in approbation: "Then Jesns be- 
holding him loved hiin." It was not in a Pharisaic 
spirit of pride that he said, " Master, all these have I 
observed from mj youth." What he desired was, that 
this great Teacher of Divine Truth who had appeared 
in Israel should point out to him some arduous attain- 
ment of virtue, some one great moral effort, more ar- 
duous than the commandments of the second Table 
(which he does not seem to have underatood in their 
spiritual import), by which he might secure the prize 
which he professed to covet—" eternal life." 

Now, here was a man— feir and promising in many 
points (may we not call him a man of great spiritual 
promise ?) — whom Our Lord was about to test by the 
application to his conscience of the first and great 
oommiindment in a practical form. For that thia ia 
the true significance of Christ's dealing with him can- 
not be doubted. It is very observable how the only 
commandments, which are specified to this young man 
as the iiathway to eternal life, are those o£ the second 
Table. Why is this? It is impossible to suppose 
that Our Lord, in bringing the Law to bear upon his 
36, would omit the commandment which Se 
caUed the first and great oormnarMlmient : 
"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart, and with all thy soul, and with alt thy mind." 
Assuredly He does not omit it ; but makes it here, as 
He did on other occasions, the most important point 
of ali But He begins with the lower and less ardu- 
oiis, before He comes to the higher and more arduous. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



313 Selfsaerijles a Test of the Zove of G-od. [chap. 

requirements of the Law, as i£ He had said to the rich 
young man : " TeU me first how you have loved your 
neighbor, whom you have seen, before I proceed to 
inquire how you love God, whom you have not seen," 
The young man's answer virtually is : "I have from 
my earliest youth fulfilled my duty to my neighbor," 
" Assuming that you have done so, for argument's 
sake," Our Lord continues, " how do you stand dis- 
posed toward God? Is your heart right with Him? 
Is it whole with Him, as a heart must be, if it is to be 
right f " This is the import of Our Lord's words ; but 
He does not put the question thus explicitly. Doubt- 
less, if He had done so, the young man's conscience 
would have evaded it. The pressing of the love o£ 
Gtod in an abstract form gives great room, as I ob- 
served at the opening of the Chapter, for self-decep- 
tion. And especially is this the case, when the per- 
sons, on whom it is pressed, are free from trouble in 
their circumstances and in their bodily frame. When 
the sun of prosperity shines out warm and bright 
upon us ; when we are in a state of robust health, 
and have a flow of animal spirits ; when our friends 
are around us, our homes happy, our means abundant 
for our needs, and there is no call for pinching, or 
saving, or straitening ; when, moreover, oiu^ reputa- 
tion is good, and we are looked up to in the Kttle 
circle in which we move— nothing is easier, under 
these circumstances, than to feel an occasional glow 
of gratitude to the Giver of all these blessings, and 
to mistake that for tho love which is the fulfilling of 
the first and great commandment. So, without men- 
tioning, or even suggesting, to this young man the 
love of God, Our Lord proposes to him a practical 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XIX.] Self-aaerifice a Test of the Love of God. 213 

test, whereby it shall be made evident how far Le is 
under the influence of that love He bids him sell all 
that he has, distribute it among the pooi, and, em- 
bracing the hard&hip and contempt to whi^h Christ's 
earliest followers exposed thembclves, attach himself 
to the little company of disciples, who m ent about the 
country m attendance upon their Divine Master. Just 
as some chemical test thrown into a colorless liquid 
immediately turns it blue, and detects the presence 
of steel, so this test applied to the young man's heart 
and character, in which hitherto there had seemed to 
be such brave spiritual promise, clouded it all over, 
and detected in it what Our Lord afterward calls a 
"trust in riches." By a trust in riches is meant, not 
a trust in riches to save the soul, according to the 
vulgar conception of salvation (nobody attributes to 
riches any sudi power), but a trust in riches to content 
and satisfy the heart. Now, this trust is inconsistent 
with the love of God. For just as love among men, 
love as it exists between the sexes, involves a longing 
for the company of the person loved, a great cora- 
plflcency in that company, a readiness to do any thing 
and every thing to win that person's fevor,and a con- 
tempt of every thing else in comparison of thatper- 
son's smUe ; so the love of God involves supreme de- 
light in Him, contemplation of His beauty and His 
escellency, enjoyment of communion wjfh Him in that 
relation to Himself into which He has been pleased to 
bring us, and a counting of all things but loss, so we 
may but win Sis favor and approval. It is the uni- 
form characteristic of true love to delight in mating 
sacrifices, when called upon by its object to do sa 
Now, God, by the mouth of Chi'ist, called this young 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



314 Sslf-sacHJlce a Test of tU Love, of God. [cnAr. 

man to do what the earlier Apostles had done, and 
wliat St. Paiil afterward did, "to suffer the loss of all 
things, and to count tliem but dung, so as he might 
win" God's favor and acceptance. The man had 
recognized Christ, not indeed as the Grod-man or the 
Saviour of the world, but as a teacher sent from God, 
by coming to inquire of Him the way of eternal life. 
" The blessedness of eternal life" — this is the scope 
of Our Lord's answer to him — " coneiste in such a 
supreme delight in God as makes us disrelisi, by 
comparison, every pleasure which life and the world 
have to offer. Now, therefore, I, as a teacher sent by 
Gfod and speaking His words, and as recognized by 
you in that capadty, require you to show that yon 
take this supreme delight in God, in the same way as 
Peter here and the rest have done, by just dropping 
those earthly possessions which you hold so tightly in 
your grip, and, mth hands and arms thus liberated, 
embracing God as your chief good." 

Such is the real signiiicance of the story, which is 
very liable, however, to be misread. We shall mis- 
read it entirely, if we suppose that Our Lord recom- 
mends the renunciation of property as a work of&c- 
traordina^'y mei'U, which, when once done, wUl secure 
et&mal life to the doer of it. Many monks, it ia to 
be feared, have fallen into this misapprehension of 
Christ's meaning, and, after having parted ivith all 
their worldly goods, and assumed the monastic habit, 
have not found themselves nearer to " eternal life " 
than they were before. They ought to have noticed 
and heeded the closing words of the recommendation : 
"Take up thy cross, and follow Me." It is not sim- 
ply iin abandonment, but an abandonment which is to 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XIX.] Self-sacrifice a Test of the Love of God. 215 

pave the way for a new pursuit and interest, that is 
recommended. As I have phrased it above, it is not 
a mere dropprng of the goods, which Christ requires, 
but a dropping of these in order to embrace Gcod — 
God's kingdom, God's righteousness, God's wiU, 

He does not reqidre from us an exactly similar 
abandonment of all that we. possess. But two de- 
mands, of a kindred character, there caa be no doubt 
He does make upon every soul to whom His Gospel 
comes. First: we must actually and literally drop 
something, not only of our worldly substance, but of 
the comforts and blessings, whatever they be, which 
make life enjoyable to us, as a testimony that at His 
bidding we are ready to resign the whole. It was to 
His disciples for all time, not to an individual, whose 
case might require a special treatment, that He said : 
" Sell that ye have, and give alms ; provide yourselves 
bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens 
that faJleth not, where no thief approacheth, neither 
moth corrupteth. For where your treasure is, there 
will your heart he also." Moreover, by the example 
of His Apostle, almost more cogently than by any 
precept, He enjoins that we shall "keep under our 
bodies and bring them into subjection," and that we 
shall never use our Christian liberty to the full extent. 
— In tlie second place : we are required to drop abso- 
lutely and at once all tru&t in riches, that is, all such 
affection to earthly and created good as leads us to 
place in it the contentment and satisfaction of our 
souls. " Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven." 
"Seek those things which are above, where Christ 
sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection 
on things above, not on tilings on the earth. For ye 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



316 Self-saoHjice a Test of the Love of &od. [chap. 

are dead, and your life is hid with Ciirist in God," 
We must naaintain, toward the comforts and blessings 
of this life, such an attitude of mind as would make 
us quite ready to strip ourselves bare of them, should 
God reqmre us to do so. And it is vain to hope that 
this can be done without actual mortification and self- 
denial. To the precept just quoted, " Set your affec- 
tion on things above, not on things on the earth," is 
immediately subjoined, as a necessary condition of 
heavenly-mindedness, " Mortify tker^ore yam- mem- 
bers which are upon the earth." Where there is no 
endurance of hardness as a good soldier of Jesus 
Christ, there the love of God and of Christ is apt to 
degenerate into a mere sentiment, exerting no power 
over the will, and deluding the heart by a vain show 
of piety. As to the mode, therefore, of exercising 
this mortification, and raaintaiuing the spirituality of 
it, I will give a few counsels. 

First : it should be deeply considered what it is 
that has to be mortified in us — that it is the affection 
to created good, not in one particidar shape, but in all 
its forms. We may not be coveting or striving after 
a fortune (that is, after a superfluous amount of this 
world's wealth), and yet it is quite possible that our 
hearts may be set upon the world, and that we may 
be looking to God's creatures, rather than to com- 
munion with Himself to fill and content the soul. 
The amiable, estimable, unambitious man, who has no 
notion of aspiring to eminence or rising in life, may 
yet be warmly attached to created good. Nor need 
it be created good in one only form. The Paradise 
of the majority of men has several ingredients in it ; 
but all the ingredients are of the earth, earthy. The 

Ho-odt,Googk' 



XIX.] Selfsaorijlce a Test of the Love of God. 217 

first of tJiese ingredients is a comfoi'table compe- 
tence — not more. The nest is good health, or, at all 
events, health good enough for the eajojmeiit of life. 
Then comes the being surrounded by relations and 
friends — the sympathies and charities o£ the domestic 
hearth. If the man is at all highly cultivated, some 
intellectual stimulus, literature in some cases, politics 
in others, enters into the idea o£ a satisfectory life. 
With almost all, sorae definite and useful occupation 
during the better part of the day is felt to be an essen- 
tial constituent of happiness. Then also respecta- 
bility — a certain amount of human esteem — is a sine 
qud non. Surely there is many and many a soul, 
which secretly whispers to itself " Give me ill these 
thmgs, and I shall need nothing more K these con 
ditions were only made peimanent, I could live en 
earth forever, and should Sf^ek for m thing better " 
And it must be added that the higer is the share of 
these things which falls to our lot the greater is the 
risk of our becoming dangcroiislj attathcd to them 
Our hearts are constantly throwing out suckeis of af 
iection; and whatsoever suppoit these suckeis find 
in the neighborhood, they will mfalbblj tn me thorn 
selves round it and creep over it. And, that )he 
heart's affections should be allowed to cleave to iny 
earthly object or objects exclusively, to thtt its 
thoughts, desires, hopes, should all be wrapped up m 
that object or objects, this is the love of the world or 
of the creature, even should the mind be a stranger 
to what is called covetousness and ambition. The 
first step, therefore, to be taken by him who would 
exercise a wise mortification, is to consider deeply in 
what form or forms of earthly good he is naturally 
10 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



318 Self-sacrijice a Test of the Zove of God. [chap, 

disposed to place his happiness. What forms yield 
him, constituted as he ia, most comfort, most gratifi- 
cation ? Is it the sympathy o£ friends and relations ? 
Is it hmnan esteem ? Is it a, luxurious ease, a career 
free from serious troubles and annoyances— -that life 
should flow on in an unbroken tenor, without anxiety 
and pressure ? Is it the gratification of ambition, the 
coming successfully out of tbe struggles of life? Is 
it amusement and recreation ? Whatever it be, there 
let him exercise a jealous watchfulness over himself; 
there let him mortify his will. To mortify the will ia 
often a far greater cross than to inflict the severest 
penance on tlie body. There let him lay by force re- 
strictions upon himself, sometimes sharply refusing all 
indulgence to the propensity, howe^ er m itself inno- 
cent, never at any time giving it too free a rem In 
giving this counsel, I am only evhibdmg tht, prmciplc 
upon which all true mortification niust proceed, not 
disparaging the two specially leoognized lorms of it 
Fasting and Almsgiving. These Me chosen b^ the 
Word of God with great wisdom, as involving self 
denial in respect of those temptations whith off(,r moit 
attraction to the mass of mankind — " the lust of the 
flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life." We 
are all under the dominion, more or loss, of our senses ; 
and therefore Fasting, if not always in the shape of 
total abstinence, yet in that of spare diet at certain 
seasons, and of habitual self-control, is for aU of us 
more or less of a necessary discipline. Again : we 
are all apt to cling to and to wrap ourselves in the 
comforts of this life ; and, therefore, a free flinging 
abroad among the distressed of the money which rep- 
resents these comforts, a liberal parting with our sub- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XIX.] Self-saeHJice a Test of t?ie Love of God. 219 

stance for worba of piety or charity, a stripping of 
ourselves of all superfluities, lest the mere sight of 
abundance should tempt us to that fatal whisper, 
" Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years ; 
take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry "—this also 
is a form of self-denial to which all, according to their 
means, are bound. And, if there were but a stronger 
conviction upon our minds of the reality and nearness 
of unseen things, if the world to come and the revela- 
tions of the Gospel were no mere phantoms to us, flit- 
ting before the eye of the imagination, but truths 
grasped by us with the hand of a living feith, a coi^ 
responding disparagement of worldly possessions, ex- 
actly proportioned in its strength to the strength of 
the conviction, would, as a necessary c<insequence, 
take possession of the soul. It was so, when man, 
by the earliest operations of the Holy Ghost, first 
began to experience, with a vividness which has since 
been rarely exhibited, "the powers of the world to 
come." Immediately after Pentecost, there was a 
bright gleam of sunshine in the Church's history, 
which, for the moment, made the gaunt form of pov- 
erty vanish like a ghost at cockcrow: "Neither was 
there among them any that lacked ; for as many as 
were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and 
brought the prices of the things that were sold, and 
laid them down at the Apostles' feet ; and distribu- 
tion was made unto every man according as he had 
need." The result was natural and necessary. The 
more intensely a man realizes unseen and eternal 
things, the more he can afford to dispense with the 
things that are seen and are temporal. 

But, finally, in order to maintain the spirituality 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



220 Self-merijice a Test ofiheZove of God. [chap. 

of acta of mortification, it is necessary to regard tbem 
as standing in the closest connection witli the love of 
Giod and with delight in communion with Him, in 
short, as being ordy the neffotwe form of this love 
and delight. Mortification which should terminate 
upon itself would be of little or no value. Giod has 
treasure in store for us, even " such good things as 
pass man's understanding ; " and it is only in order to 
our more vivid appreciation and keener rehsh for this 
heaveidy treasure that He requires us to disencumber 
ourselves of the earthly. It is only in order that we 
may bask in His sunlight, may be fanned by His 
breezes, may walk abroad among His landscapes, may 
lift up our eyes to His stars, that He invites us to 
come out of the narrow house of earthly comfort, and 
turn our baclis upon the false artificial lights which 
are Idndled there. Mortifeation is not an end in 
itself/ it is but a means to an end — that end being 
the springing up in our hearts of a fountain of eter- 
nal joy. And therefo t ult' t taste for spirit- 
ual enjoyments, and t pi s ontentment and 
satisfaction more and m 1 Iv in the contem- 
plation of God and i o nmaun n with Him, is the 
way to grow in the pir t t M ■t fioation, without 
which spirit the bare ts f t h little or no value. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Lone f<rf the Mrethreii, t 



CHAPTER XX. 



LOVE I'OE 1 



" ^a man say, Hove Ood, mid Iialeih his brother, ?tc is a liar ; /or 
he fhc^ loiieth tiOt his Iroiher isliom, fm haih seen, /lotu can he love 
God viliom he Iiath not »emt f " — 1 Johb iv. 20. 

IT was remarked, at the opening; of the last Chap- 
ter, that the Holy Scriptures, which aim every- 
where at the inculcation of principles rather than of 
sentiments, furnish praotica! tests for ascertaining how 
iar we are under the influence of the love of God. 
One of these practical teats was considered in that 
Chapter, We saw that Mortification was the nega- 
tive aide of the love of God — that in proportion as a 
man really embraces " the things which are above " 
with true affection, in that proportion will he " mor- 
tify his members which are upon the earth." 

A second practical test ia fumiahed to ua, in the 
passage at the head of this Chapter, by the Apostle 
of love himself. Any pretence to the love of God, in 
the absence of the love of our neighbor, is a delusion,; 
what we think to bo tlie love of God is in that case a 
mete sentiment, playing upon the surface of the soul, 
not a deeply-rooted principle which has the mastery 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



3S2 Lorn for the Brethren [chap. 

of the wilt. And for thia reason : God is an object 
of faith. His very existence is not made known to us 
by onr senses. We have to " believe that He is," 
Our brother, on the otber hand, is an object of sight. 
We come across him ; we have dealings with him ; we 
need not to make any effort of the mind to a,pprehend 
him ; for his existence, his qualities, his character, 
force themselves upon tt t y t 

he walks side by side with 1 th p th f 1 f 
Now, it is, of course, to IL by ht th 

by faitl). And therefo t m t I h 

easier, to realize oui nei^^hbo t th t 

alize the existence of G d 4 d 1 th 1 

ly realize God's existen ^ t t f th j t 

that we can love Hitn. 

Now, just pause he t d th b i 

what has been said. At fit It dbf w 
■weigh the meaning of tl t mpl t m ht 

seem to be easier to lov G Itl ir i^l b T 

the idea of God, which we form {and which we ought 
to form) in our minds, embraces every perfection, and 
excludes every imperfection. We think of Him, and 
■we are right in thinking of Him, as not only infinitely 
powerful and ■wise, but as infinitely loving, gracious, 
bountiful, truthful, just, and holy. Our neighbor, on 
the other hand, like ourselves, is compassed about 
with infirmities, infirmities with which we come day 
by day into rude (and sometimes hostile) collision, in- 
firmities forced upon us by the fact that we see him, 
and (if I may say so) feel him. He has hard angles, 
and we run up against ■them ; awkward tempers, irri- 
tating eccentricities, ways ■which thwart our ways ; he 
is ■vain and conceited, or he is cold and reserved, or he 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XX.] a Test of our Zove for God. 223 

is ungracious, or even gometimea rude. And it often 
happens (which is very perverse in him) that the side 
which he turns to society is his unlovable side ; he 
has much good in him "which he never shows, and 
which nobody would belie to "n t re it not 
that character will in the loi g un tmn i to those 
around us, do what we wUl to thr a 1 over it. 
Now, this being the case w th s m p bly with 
many, in whose company we ha e to t a 1 along the 
path of life, we might be disposed to saj, on being 
told that the love of our neighbor is much easier than 
the love of Giod : " How can this be ? A considera- 
ble degree of forbearance is necessary in order to love 
my neighbor at all ; but in God all is lovely, all is 
gracious, all is beautiful, all is attractive to the heart; 
God has no unamiable side; God (and Christ who is 
His Image) is the infinite Amiability, and draws His 
children to His Bosom with those allurements which 
are naturally engaging to the human heart, ' with 
cords of a man, with bands of love.' " 

How shall we maintain the Apostle's position 
against an objection of this kind ? The answer is plain 
and very instructive. It is easier to have a certain sen- 
timental drawing toward an idea of God, than to love 
our brother. But then to have a sentimental draming 
toward an idea of God, is not to love God. It is 
easy to construct in the mind a pretty imagination, and 
to feel charmed and fascinated by it ; but this, if wo 
go not beyond this, is loving an abstraction, not loving 
a person. Before loving a person, we must really and 
truly apprehend his existence ; and, in the case of a 
pereon whom we have not seen and cannot see, this 
true and realizing apprehension can only come from 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



324 Zove for (/« Jirethren [chap. 

faJtJi. Imagmatiou ia not faith, but only the natural 
&culty in man's heart which corresponds to faith. 
To imagine God is not to believe in Hun. Anybody 
can imagine God by a mere exercise of his natural 
powers. But no man can have faith in God as a living 
Person, on whom all things are momentarily depend- 
ent, hut by the supernatural power of Grace. To 
grasp the Personality of God, to apprehend Him, not 
as a law, nor as an influence, but as an actually existent, 
conscious Being, who stands in certain close relations 
to us, and has dealings with us every moment, and so 
to apprehend this truth as to be brought under its 
power — ^this, so far from being easy, is an arduous 
achievement. Whereas our brother's existence and 
character are obvious to the senses ; there is no difficulty 
in realizing that. With God there are two processes 
to bo gone through, the apprehending Him first, and 
then the loving Him. In our neighbor's case we have 
no more to do than to love him. The apprehension of 
him comes in the course of natiu'e, and as a matter of 
experience. 

The love of our neighbor would requhe for its full 
and adequate discussion a separate treatise. In the 
present Chapter we can only consider its profound con- 
nection with the love of God (which will serve to fence 
off certain errors connected with the subject), and the 
practical tests to which any profession of this love 
must be brought. 

L A word, first, on the intimate connection subsist- 
ing between the love of Giod and that of om' neighbor. 
The second ia wrapped up in the first, and for this 
reason : What we are required to love in our neigh- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XX.] a Tast of our Love for GoJ 2i^ 

bor is the image of [God in him. Every soul has a 
fragment of this image in its lowest depth, though it 
may be overlaid by all manner of rubbish — mfirmitj , 
imperfection, frivolity, sin. There is some one point 
in which every son! is accessible to compassion and 
sympathy, or to an exhibition of truth which condemns 
it — some one echo, in short, which it is adapted to 
make to some one chord of truth and love — some one 
spark (if it have not been quenched by perastence in 
wilful sin) of chivalrous, generous, heroic feeling. Just 
as in every mind also there ia a capacity — not, it may 
be, for the usual class of acquirements, nor for those 
which yield a return in the way of honor and emolu- 
ment, but — for something. Every human intelligence 
can construct something or imagine something ; it has 
a power of development in a certain direction, or it 
would not be a human intelligence, but merely the 
instinct of an animal. And as the skilful portrait- 
painter studies to bring out upon his canvas, not the 
literal resemblance of the features, as they appear in 
the wear and tear of daily life, but the characteristic 
expression {or soul), caught only once or twice in 
happy moments, and even then requiring an effort 
of the imagination to extricate it from the gross linea- 
ments of flesh and blood, so the true Christian studies 
the happy art of nialdng the most of every one with 
whom he is thrown in contact-— of recognizing in each 
soul, and of eliciting from it (to recognize is the way 
to elicit), that feature of heart and mind in which 
stands the relationship of that particular soul to Giod. 
It is this character of the man, disentangled from the 
infirmities and imperfections which, in consequence of 
the Fall, have gathered over and concealed it — ^it is, in 

Ho-odt,Googk' 



333 Zove for the brethren [chap. 

sliort, the true self of our neighbor — that ve are 
required to love. 

And this observation places our duty iu a clearer 
light. We are not required to love infirmities or im- 
perfections ; naj, we could not do so, if required ; for 
infinnitiea and imperfectaons are naturally repeUing. 
Our brother's true self is the object upon which our 
love is to festen ; and as to hia infirmities and imper- 
fections, ■which ho shares ■with us in ■virtue of our 
common deterioration by the Fail, those are to be 
borne with and overlooked out of regard to his true 
self, and to the filial relation ■which this true self bears 
to God. — Does this distinction between a man's true 
self and his failings seem to any of my readers subtle 
and overstrained ? Let me say that, under another view 
of the subject, it is universally accepted. What is the 
meaning of saying (as we often do) that God loves the 
sinner, while He hates the sin ? Nothing can be truer. 
I need not say that God not only does, but must, hate 
sin in its every form ; that between Him and insin- 
cerity, untruthfulness, peevishness, petulance, ill-tem- 
per — above all, perhaps, between Him and selfishness — 
there must be an eternal antipathy. And yet nothing 
is more certain than that, while God hates my selfish- 
ness and untruthfulness, He deeply and tenderly loves 
me with an individualizing love. I say an individu- 
alizing love ; for is it not written that Christ " by the 
graee of God tasted death for ev^bkt man" — not for 
the human race generally, nor (I may say) for the 
human race at all, except as made up of individual 
soula (Christ did not die for abstractions, but for per- 
sons 1 ), but for each individual of the race singly and 
J, as much as if there had been no other per- 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XX.] et Test of our Love for God. 327 

son ill the world to die for ? And as for my sins and 
infirmities, these (blessed be His Name !) are no hin- 
derance to His love : He loves me through them all 
(even the worst of them), that He may love me out 
of them, if 1 will only let Him. Day after day He 
bears with them, though they are . eradicated very 
slowly, manifesting infinite patience toward me, be- 
cause He is conscious of an infinite strength. Now, 
He would have me love my neighbor exactly as He 
loves me, fastening my regard upon his true self, upon 
the feature of God's image which is reflected in his 
soul, and bearing with his infirmities out of this esteem 
for the true sel£ Must it not be practicable ? It is 
what He is constantly doing to me, 

IL But it is with the love of our neighbor exactly 
as it is with the love of God ; the pressing it only in 
an abstract form may lead to sad delusiou. Nothing 
is easier than, when we ourselves are in pixisperity, 
to feel an expansion of the heart toward others, and 
a dim desire to shed happiness around us, and to 
mistake this for the charity which the Gospel requires 
from us. And therefore our love of our neighbor, no 
less than our love of God, must be brought to prac- 
tical tests. 

1. First ; are w© doing any thing to help our 
neighbor? making sacrifices for him, of money, or 
time, or pleasures? The Apostles John and James 
the IjCSS seem both to be inspired with a holy jealousy 
of mere professions of benevolence. The first goes so 
far as to say that the profession is better away ; he 
does not care for the blossom on the tree; let him see 
the fruits : " Hereby perceive we the love of God, be- 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



■338 Love for tha Brethren [chap. 

cause He laid down His life for us : and we ought to 
lay down our lives for the brethren." (Oh, the ardu- 
ous standard of these Gospel precepts — if our brethren 
oould be benefited by the sacrifice of our lives, if we 
felt that by submitting to death we should light among 
men a candle of truth, which should never be put out, 
we must not shrink even from that sacrifice !) "But 
whoso hath this world's good" (this world's life' or 
maintenance), " and seeth his brother have need, and 
ehufcteth up his bowels of compassion from, him, how 
dwcUcth the love of God" — not love foe God, but 
God's love, or Christ's love, the love which He showed 
by sacrificing Himself for sinners — '■ in him ? My 
little children, let us not love in word, neither in 
tongue; but in deed and in truth." And St. James 
to the same effect, though less strongly : " If a brother 
or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one 
of you say unto them, Depart in peace ; be ye warmed 
and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those 
things which are needful to the body ; what doth it 
profit ? " Thus warned by God's Word, let ua eschew 
aRprofessions of benevolent sentiment, as connected 
with self-deception. And when such sentiments visit 
our hearts, let us set ourselves at once to do some- 
thing of a practical kind for the succor and relief of 
our brethren. I say, ai once. It is wonderful how 
soon impressions of this kind evaporate. Hearers, 
who happen to have little or nothing in their purses, 
will retire irom a powerful charity sermon with their 
minds all in a glow of desire to assist the object ad- 
vocated. But they do not strike while the iron is 
hot ; and they find the glow has gone off when they 
1 'Or d' oil £x? '^^'^ P^ ^"^ K'f'T/iou, etc, etc, 1 JoJin iii 17. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



zx.] a Test of our Xove. for God. 229 

wake on Monday, It is an excellent spiritual precept, 
wheneTer a good desire springs up in our heart, to 
stereotype and make it permanent — in other words, 
to bring the good desire to good effect by an effort in 
that direction. By such aa effort the good desire, in- 
stead of vaoishing like a writing on the sand, and 
leaving no trace behind it, passes into the character 
{much as digested food passes into the bodily frame), 
and contributes toward the formation and the force 
of it. 

2, Then, secondly, our prayers for others furnish a 
good practical test aa to the genuineness of the love 
we bear them. What approach are we maldng to 
the great model of the Lord's Prayer, which does not 
contain any petition exclusively directed to our own 
wants ? Do we pray for others at all ? And if we 
do, is this exercise considered by us merely as an or- 
namental appendage to our other prayers, but as in no 
wise essential to their acceptability with God ? This 
is the view which hundreds of orthodox and estimable 
Christians secretly take of Intercessory Prayer. We 
have done enough, they think, if we have brought our 
own wants and sorrows under God's notice ; but it is 
conect, and in ordinary cases desirable, to add a 
sentence or two invoking His blessing upon others. 
But surely this is not the standard set up by the 
Holy Scnptures on this subject. In the first place, 
as I have aheady said, there is the great Divine 
Model of Prayer, which seems to exclude all prayer 
for ourselves alorui, being so constructed as to make 
it impossible for us to pray for ourselves, without at 
the same time praying for our bretlu:en. And then 
there is the gi-ound in reason for this construction of 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



230 Love for the Brethren [ceiap. 

the Model Prayer. When Oui Blessed Lord would 
teach His disciples how words of prayer should be- 
come words of power, and take effect in the spiritual 
world, instead of falling pai'alyzed aod impotent to 
the ground, He dwelt upon two, and only two, great 
pmnts — they must be offered in faith : (" Therefore I 
say unto you, What things soever ye desire when ye 
pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have 
them ; "} and they must be offered in love ; (" And 
when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have aught 
against any ; that your Father also which is in heaven 
may forgive you your trespasses.") In other words, 
the offerer must recognize, while offering them, both 
hb filiai relationship to the Father of spirits, and his 
fraternal relationship to other spirits proceeding from 
the same Father. In the phenomena of Mesmerism 
(I am offering no opinion whatever upon their genu- 
ineness, but merely referring to them for an illustra- 
tion), it is said that there must be some secret affinity 
between the operator and the subject, if the effect is 
to be produced. The motion of the hands will, in the 
absence of this affinity, be a mere beating of the air 
without any visible result. In like manner, the up- 
lifted hands of prayer will not draw down an influence 
from above — its words, and even cries, will be spoken 
into the air — unless first we bring our minds into 
affinity mth the Infinite Mind of Grod. And this it 
is impossible to do, first, without faith : {" He that 
comoth to Grod must believe that He is, and that He 
is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him ; ") 
and, secondly, without love. For God's Nature is 
Love — Love to all created spirits — and he must neces- 
sarily repel those who come to Him in a spirit not 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



xx-l a Test of our Love for God. 231 

His own. And therefore, in building up the struc- 
ture of His own perfect prayer, Our Lord puts a word 
of faith first, and a word of love next: -'Father o£ 
us " (such is the order of the words in the original) ; 
" Father," expressive of our relationship to Him ; " of 
us," expressive of our relationship to the brethren. 
And he (and only he) who realizes these relationships, 
while he prays, shall pray with power, entering, as it 
were, into secret afBnity with God, and touching the 
chords of Gktd's heart. 

Let me suggest, in conclusion, one method of real- 
izing the latter of these relationships, which may, 
under God's blessing, prove effectual. Seek to make 
your prayers for others specific, as far as your knowl- 
edge of their character and circumstances allows. 
Bring before your mind their trials and their needs, 
and endeavor to place yourself in their point of view, 
from which point you may be sure the trials and needs 
will look very different than they do ixoia yours. Re- 
member that to pray for them, without some measiu-e 
of sympathy with them, would be a mere formality — 
the body of intercession without its animating soul. 
Pray for this sympathy, while you endeavor, by care- 
fiil consideration of their case, to excite it within your- 
self: "Look not every man on his own things, but 
every man also on the things of others." Then offer 
for them the petitions which, if the case were yours, 
you would offer for yourselfi And if the prayer Seem 
as regards them to be ineffectual, yet it shall be ac- 
cepted on your own behalf as an act of love. The 
dove which Noah sent forth, when she could find no 
resting-place outside the ark, came back again flutter- 
ing to the window. And similarly our efforts for 

Ho-odt,Coogk' 



233 Lom for tfte Brethren, etc. [chap. 

othera, whether of prayer or benevolence, are not lost. 
If tJiey are not benefited by them, we are : in increase 
of liglit, and power, and comfort, in whispers of mercy 
and peace, they return again into our bosom. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



:i.] TM Love, of God a Principle, etc. 



CHAPTER XXL 



J LOVE OF GOD A PItINCIPI.E EATHEE 1 



" If ye lone Me, Tceep My wmjiiandmenis." — John siv. 15. 

THE last discourses of Our Lord with His disciples, 
from which these words are taken, are full of 
pathos. The world is shut out ; the Everlasting 
Father and His little children are taking their last 
farewells one of the other in absolute privacy; the 
only unfaithful one of the twelve has taken his leave 
of the supper-room, and goae out upon the execution 
of his dark design ; Our Lord is sure of the sincerity 
of those who remain, and accordingly He pours out 
His heart toward them in accents of most touching 
tenderness. But yet there is a certaan element in His 
conversation, which makes us observe that, while there 
is pathos in the interview, there is no sentiment (per- 
haps I should rather say, no sentimentality) in it. 
Sentiment is an emotion of the heari; indulged for its 
own sake, because the indulgence is pleasurable at the 
moment, and will be pleasurable in the retrospect ; 
but there is nothing of this kind in the last inteiriew 
of Christ with His chosen ones. There is here no 
luxury of grief indulged for a moment, that it may be 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



234 ThAi Love, of G-od [chap. 

looked back tipon afterward with a melancholy satis- 
faction ; the pathos flows out of the position, and out 
of the deep camestuess of the work done in the posi- 
tioa The G-ood Shepherd, about to leave His little 
flock, addresses Himself to impress upon their memory 
those particular topics of oonsolation, encouragement, 
and warning, of which He knew theywonld have most 
need in His absence. And He strikes in their ears 
from time to time a certain note, which reminds them 
that He will repudiate a mere sentimental attachment. 
He tells them agam, in these last mcments, what He 
bad toid them more publicly in the Sermon on the 
Mount, th^t no a&ection will He acknowledge, but 
such •is takes the piaotical form of obedience ; that 
the lo\e which He expects from them is a principle, 
not d sentimont , thit it lies in the wdl and moral 
choice, rithcr than in the emotions Thus in the pas- 
sage at the head at the chapter ' If j e lo^ e Me, keep 
My fommindment'f ' And again in ver 31, "He 
that hath My commandments, and keepeth them, he 
it is that loveth Me." And again in ver. 23, " If a 
man love Me, he will keep My words." And again, 
in chap, xv., " If ye keep My commandments, ye shall 
abide in My love." And again, " Ye are My friends, 
if ye do whatsoever I command you." These are only 
reiterations to the innermost circle of the disciples of 
the more public warnings given earlier in His Minis- 
try: " Not every one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord, 
shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; but he that 
doeth the will of My Father which is in heaven ; " and 
again : " My mother and My brethren ate those which 
hear the word of Grod, and do it." 

We have touched frequently, in these closing Chap- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



xsi.] a Prinoiph ratlnv than a Sentiment. 235 

tors, upon tlie difference between sentiment and prin- 
ciple ; and it appears to me desirable, by way of iffi- 
presaiag wliat has been said, that this point should be 
argiimentatively discussed and thoroughly explored ; 
for it has more than an incidental importance. The 
distinction between the emotions and the affections — 
between sentiments and principles — is one which it 
would be of infinite service to true religion to make 
clear. First, itwouM serve for the detection ofhy- 
pocrisy. There are many persona (many in the ranks 
of the Church, though perhaps more among the sects) 
who mistake lively emotions of compunction, remorse, 
joy, triumph, for the graces of the Gospel, repentance, 
feith, love, and humble assurance. A life of ecstatic 
feeling, crowned by a sort of rapture in death, is their 
great idea of saintliness. They have never sufficiently 
weighed the truth that the hearers who receive the 
word with joy, and in whose hearts it springs up with 
the rapidity and luxuriance of a tropical plant, are not 
the right sort of hearers ; their hearts want depth and 
moisture, and so they dure but for awhile, and in time 
of temptation fell away, — Again, the distinction we 
arc going in quest of will serve, when found, to con- 
sole many a dovsn-hearted Christian. There are 
many who, partly from constitutional causes, partly 
from the natural temperament of their minds, partly 
from their having approached Beligion rather from the 
side of duty than from that of privilege, have by no 
naeans that flow of feeling connected with the subject 
■which they desire to find in themselves. They pray 
earnestly for a contrite heart, but feel very little sen- 
sible grief for their sins. They look hard, as they 
have been advised to do, at the details of our Saviour's 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



23(! The Love of God [chap. 

Passion; but they fee! no sympathy with the Divine 
Sufferer. They embrace God'a promises, as far as 
their intention is concerned ; but -without unction, 
fervor, or sensible delights They embrace God's will, 
when it prescribes either duty or suffering, but with- 
out those warm emotions of gratitude and confidence, 
of which they could desire to be conscious. They have 
been instructed (and most rightly instructed) that the 
surrender of the heart is what God requires first and 
before all things else, and that true Religion stands 
in certain tempers or affections of the soul, which flow 
out of faith — even in " love, joy, peace, long-suffer- 
ing, gentleness, goodness, fidelity,' meekness, temper- 
ance." They cannot perceive by sensible emotions 
the presence of those fruits of the Spirit within them ; 
and therefore they altogether question their presence. 
And sometimes, when the animal spirits are low, either 
from failure of health, or from some shook received in 
the order of Giod's Providence, the distress resulting 
fiTom the dryness and hardness of their own minds 
amounts almost to dismay. 

Now by way of establishing the fact of there being 

I t n^l t tlrna iriari^ in Gal. v, 22, beoaHse 1 liavdly think 
tl t t 'h ve mean 'ixe fimdamenial grace of the Chiiathm 

h t t of wMoh all others are ilereloped. Bengel, if I 

m mb ightly {I am quoUng him from memory), interprets 
ml ly Hi3 observation is to this general effect: that lore 
ndj ya "t oes esercised (oioai-rf Goii,- peace, agraco ciemsed 
■renipromdls bdween neighbors (" Have peace one witfi anotJier " ) ; 
long-suffeiing, gentleness, goodness, £iith, meekness, graces ex- 
ercised to-amrd o-ar neigJiboi- ; temperance, a grace exercised loio- 
ard oiirssliies. Faith, therefore, is hero that quality in another 
man, which loakea one feel that one can depend upon him— trust- 
worthiness. 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XKi,] a JHjiciple rather than a SentiriUfi-4. 23? 

a difference between the affections and the emotions 
(and tiiiis clearing the way to aee what this difference 
is), we may point to ordinary life as furnishing abun- 
dant scope for the one, with bnt little scope for the 
other. Take the Hfe of nine-tenths of the community 
ia a civilized country. The ordinary relationships are 
contracted ; the ordinary pursuits are engaged in ; 
the ordinary recreations are resorted to as a relief; 
the ordinary, and not more than the ordinary, casual- 
ties occur ; there may be troubles, but they are hardly 
calamities ; there may bo gratifications, but they do 
not deserve the name of great successes. Life under 
such circumstances moves mechanically in the groove 
of routine, and is seldom so disturbed as to be alto- 
gether thrown out of the groove. In such a life, be- 
cause there is in it little or no incident or reverse, 
there is but little play for the emotions. Feelings are 
seldom strongly excited, because there is nothing to 
excite them. The soul is never harrowed with fear ; 
for what is there in modern civilized life, with all the 
securities offered by it for the person and property, to 
arouse fear ? And as for any of those bright hopes, 
which were the sun-gleams of the soul in early youth, 
they arc fast dying out, and every additional year decks 
the future, not with rainbow colors, but with a soberer 
gray ; and the love of friends and relations, however 
much its power ia silentiy felt, is singularly undemon- 
strative. Yet who shall say, because of this dearth of 
emotion, that, in the heart of the large majority of 
men who live this regular and civilized life, the affec- 
tions are dead ? It ia simply untrue to say so. If you 
placed these same men and women amidst incidents, 
surprises, and reverses, such as are portrayed in 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



23:^ TM Love of God [chap. 

tragedies or romances, the emotions of fear, hope, in- 
dignation, love, would show themselves, at the various 
crises furaished by such a life, with a vigor Tvliich 
would reveal a force of character you little suspected. 
Something of this kind is oft<3n seen, when war hrealis 
out, and many men, who have been hitherto the frivo- 
lous members of a frivolous society, being placed in 
positions of trust or danger, surprise the world by 
their chivahy or their gallant endurance of hardships. 
They had fortitude and generous sentiments in their 
hearts at home ; but at home the occasion for their 
display was lacking. And so with the domestic affec- 
tions, which bind us together ; they run still and deep 
(iJie stiller oftentimes the deeper), and only TnaJce a 
noise (or, in other words, only show themselves in 
emotion) when a crisis occurs. When our friends are 
taken Irom us by death we shed tears, and feel that a 
blight has come over our life; but while they are by 
our sides, we acquiesce in the consciousness of their 
sympathy, without any rapturous expressions of our 
feeling for them. Perhaps the only demonstrations 
of affectioQ made in the course of ordinary life are an 
unreserved confidence, and a desire to please in httle 
things. The affection for our friends is the same, 
while they are by our sides, as when they are taken 
away : but it does not pass into emotion, except when 
we have actually lost, or are in imminent danger of 
losing, them. 

What has been said holds good of the affections in 
their application to Religion ; for here too they are 
governed by the same laws as in the natural life of 
man. In the spiritual as in the natural man, lively 
emotion and deep affection are different things, and the 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



XX!.] a PrincipU rather than a Sentiment. 239 



e of tlie latter can Lc never safely inferred from 
the nonappearance of the former. All the sudden 
crises and abrupt transitions of the spiritual life will 
no doubt be attended with emotion. All conversions 
which are more or Jess sudden in their character (I use 
this language advisedly, intending to intimate that 
conversion mai/ he sudden in certain cases, but ia 
no less genuine when achieved very gradually), all 
plunges of the soul from the darkness of ignorance 
and levity into the light of Divine Truth and religious 
privilege, must necessarily involve liveliness of feel- 
ing. The fear of Hell wU! sometimes shake the soul 
to its centre, and possess it with an earnest horror, 
altogether new to it. A sense of the Saviour's ex- 
ceeding great Love wili poiAr itself like a warm beam 
of the sun into every cranny of the coiisoiousness, and 
the sensation will be full of delight. And he who has 
thus tasted that the Lord is gracious wUi be minded 
as St. Peter was at the Transfiguration. Ecstasy of 
feeling is attractive to all of us ; it varies the mo- 
notony of existence ; it lifts the mind easily and with- 
out effort into a frame which the moral sense cannot 
but approve ; it is a welcome relief from the wear and 
tear, the drudgery and responsibility, of little homely 
duties. So we plead that it may endure — -that we may 
be allowed to bmld a tabernacle upon the mount, 
where the Lord appears to us in glory, and the voice 
from heaven falls upon onr ear. This is the real mean- 
ing of all who aim at what are called revivals in the 
Church. Wliat they really seek, and what they will 
not be contented without seeing, ia not so much the 
deep silent work of grace, by which men are brought 
to ^ve up their hearts to the Lord, as the quickening 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



240 Tha Love of God [chap. 

of surface emotions on the subject of Religion, tlie 
stretcbing the soul on the rack of fear and anxiety, 
and then its inundation with all the reliefe and refresh- 
ments of Grace. They would fain galvanize the eoul 
into life by a sudden shock ; and sometimes they con- 
found the galvanic action, which at most can only be 
the cause, with the life, ■which is the effect. But the 
true life of the soul is in its affections, not in its emo- 
tions, .Emotions are impossible (aceordingto the law 
of our minds), except at a crisis and moment of con- 
-mdsion. And he who seeks for them under ordinary 
ciiximistanceg will run the risk of making bis religion 
morbid. There aie two safe signs, in our normal 
spiritual life, that we love Christ — the same which in- 
dicate the realityof our love to those around us. One 
is confi^nce — a compliance witJi that invitation of the 
Psalmist : " Trust in Wim at all times, ye people ; pour 
out your hearts before Him ; for God is our hope." 
The babit of exposing tbe contents of the heart to 
Christ, of referring all our actions to His will, of com- 
mending all our troubles to His care, and all our diiE- 
oultiea to His direction, the realizing Hira {oot per- 
haps as much as we could wish to do, but in some 
measure) as being by our side, always sympathizing, 
always inviting our confidence, always ready and will- 
ing to help us, the being sincere in all our dealings 
with Him, and perfectly single-minded in seeking to 
know His will — this is one great test of love for Him, 
which, if really found in us in a small degree, is worth 
a large amount of high-flown feeling. — And the second 
test is, that we seek to please Him. A simple test 
enough, as it would seem on hearing the first statement 
of it, but yet involving more than we might at first 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



sxi.] a I^inoiple ratlier than a Sentiment. 341 

eight imagine. For an effort to please Christ involves 
a sense of Ciirist's living Personality, We do not talk 
of pleasing a law, but simply of satisfying its require- 
ments. We do not talk of pleasing an influence, but 
simply of acting in conformity with it. The attempt 
to please a person involves a recognition that he 
stands to its in a certain relationship, has certain 
thoughts about us, is liable to be affected by our con- 
duct, is susceptible of emotions from our way of act- 
ing. To attempt to please Christ is not only to act 
in compliance with the general indications of His will 
which are made to us in His Word, but to be on the 
watch for opportunities of doing Him service, and to 
embrace those opportunities whenever they arise ; it 
is to be guided by His Eye, as well as by the express 
directions of Hia Voice, and to find in the sense o£ 
His favor and approving snulo the strongest stimulus 
to duty. Whoever feels and a«t8 thus toward Him 
must love Him, however little of sensible emotion he 
may easperienoe. The love of friends in daily life ia 
shown by unreserved confidences, and by a study to 
please in trifles ; and it is the greatest of all mistakes 
to suppose that, where these confidences pass, and 
these endeavors are made, there is no affection, be- 
cause there is no passionate flow of feeling, or, in 
other words, because there is no strong emotion. 
Emotion may be defined as affection quicicene<l hy a 
crisis. Birt then it is not at all essential to the ex- 
istence or genuineness of an affection that it should 
be thtis quickened. Take an illustration from the 
an imal frame. Physical emotion may be defined as 
a quickening of the pulses by a sudden surprise, or 
11 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



342 Tha Zove of God [chap. 

danger, or deliverance. If a man falling over a preci- 
pice, and having a momentary apprehension of being 
dashed to pieces, lights on a grassy ledge only a few 
feet below him, and finds himself safe; or if a man in 
a droara, fancying he is about to be executed, wakes 
in tlie agonies of the crisis, and finds himself alive and 
in his own chamber, his heart begins to beat very fast ; 
and tbis is physi 1 t n But h j f 

days and mo tlis yitb «t y h j n his 

heart beating dh bl du-iLtn h'd hdy and 
regularly, wtluth beg is us it Sm 
larly with th 1 Th n -y b a 1 t la 

tion of the aff ti n th u 1 h 1 w tl ut 

that quick ani mid t n of th m whi 1 t 

tutes emotion 

Let usp n tviw ftbjSig 

above quoted, in the light of these remarks, and see 
what aspect it assumes. "If ye love Me, keep My 
commandments ; " that is, " In judging of your dispo- 
sitions toward Me, I will not allow a mere emotion to 
pass current for love; love, or the love which I will 
recognize, is an aflection, not an emotion ; it is founded 
in the will or moral choice, and the will is the sphere 
in which it displays itself." This last position, " The 
will is the sphere in which all genuine love of Christ 
displays itself," is, in fact, the same truth which Our 
Lord here announces, thrown into a more abstract 
form. That we may go to the root of the subject, let 
us examine this statement, and seek to understand it 
thoroughly. 

The love of Christ niuat show itself in the will ; is, 
in feet, an affection of the will. The same may be 
said of all those holy tempers of the soul, which St. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XXI.] a JPriTicdpU rather thar, 

Paul calls fmits of the Spirit ; it is true of religious 
awe, o£ religious joy, of inward peace, of the Qhaiity 
whicli we should bear toward our fellow-men, of tiie 
hope o£ glory, that they are all affections of the will ; 
they stand clear of the emotionaJ and sensationaJ part 
of the soul altogether ; they belong to a higher part 
of our nature. Bear with me, dear reader, while I 
exhibit this briefly ; the subject is not really dilficult, 
though it may be a little abstract; and I believe sound 
views upon it to be all-important in the conduct of the 
spiritual life. 

There are, then, in human nature affections of the 
will, which arc quito distinct from, and sometimes 
show their distinctness by running contrary to, the 
emotions of tiie lower part of the mind. To show 
this more clearly, I will take the case of a virtuous 
heathen, animated (as we know many such heathens 
to have been) by a strong love of his c«untiy. Such 
a heatlien had, of course, all the feelings to which 
mankind are ordinarily subjoct. He naturally loved 
hia ease, shrunk from pain, feared wounds and death, 
loved the members of his family. But he had other 
loves and other fears, which urged him in a direction 
the very contrary of these lower motives. He hated 
tyranny, and could not bear to see his country op- 
pressed by it ; he loved liberty ; he loved the happi- 
ness of his people ; and this hatred and love were so 
strong, that he sacrificed to them ease, comfort, do- 
mestic happiness— nay, life itself. In doing so^ he 
undoubtedly found a serene and high satisfection, as 
every one who acts imselfisUy is sure to do ; but it 
was a gatis&ction of the higher, and not the lower, 
s of our nature — of " the spirit," as the Apos- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



344 ThQ Love of God [ciiai-. 

tie would have phrased it, not of " the soul," ' His 
soul shrank from death, and feared it ; but his spirit 
ehoso death, and carried the day. And he had his 
reward. Do not think he made such a sacrifice for 
nothing, or found nothing in the sacrifice. There is a 
high joy in self-abnegation for others, in disinterested 
enterprise, in a sense of duty gone through with in 
spite of difBoulties. But this joy, you will at oooe 
perceive, is not that exuberance of animal spirits, that 
cbidlition of the sensational nature, which often usurps 
the name, but a joy peculiar to the wiU, or moral fac- 
ulty — a joy which conscience approves, and which, 
indeed, may be called the result of the smile of con- 
science on the sotil. To cite the well-known wori^ 
of South, in which he describes the passion of joy, as 
it existed before the Fail (a somewhat audacious spec- 
ulation, by-the-way ; what he is really describing is 
the joy of the Trvev/iO; or moral faculty, as distinct 
from the joy of the ^iv^, or sensational part— an 
affection of which we may all have experience) : " Joy 
was not the mere crackling of thorns, the exultation 
of a tickled firncy, or a pleased appetite. Joy was 

' The I'efecenoe ia to 1 Thea. t. 23, wlicre " aoul " and " spirit " 
are carefullj' distiiiguialied ; alao to Heb. it. 32, wliere thdr eloao 
uniOtt is implied. Also to I Cor. ii. 14 ; 1 Cor. iv. 44, 46 ; where 
"(he man of the soul," " the body which ia of the eoul" (i ^v^i- 
Kdf, rS au/ia ■tjivx'K^v), is eoatradietinguiBhed from "the man of 
the spirit " — -"the body which ia of the spicit" (i j^yEv/uiTiKhc, tS 
ca/ia irwEu/toruoii;). Also observe how in St. Jade (t, 19), those 
who are characterized as ^mx""'^ (" ™sa ^f the soul "), are sud 
" not to have the Sprit " — meaning, tlonbtless, the Holy Spirit ; 
but the phraseology seems to intimB,te that the ideas presented to 
the writer's mind by the words ^v;t:5and irTriJ/in were more or less 
incompatible. 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XXI.] a Principh rather than a S&ntiment. 245 

then a masculine and a severe thing ; the recreation 
of the judgment, the jubilee o£ ipa&on It commenced 
upon the solidities of truth, ind the substance of fru 
ition. It did not run outm-^oicc or mderent erup- 
tions, but iilled the soul, as God does the uniyer&e, 
silently, and without noise " 

Now, the remark ivhich holds good ol ]0y holds 
good also of love, and o£ all the other affections 
There is a love of the soul, or emotiooil part of our 
nature ; and there is a love ot the spirit, oi the will, 
or the moral faculty. In ordinary parlance, the merest 
fiincy for another person — a lancy able to gne no a« 
count of itself, and therefbri, confes'fedly i wliiin — a 
fancy light as air, which has not the balHst of a single 
grain of esteem, commonlj usurps the sacred name of 
love, and passes current for that aflei-tion. There is 
nothing of the judgment in it ; and often it w^ould not 
stand the test of the least self-denial for the sake of 
its object, if that test were applied. " Now," says. 
Our Blessed Saviour in the passage we are comment- 
mg upon, " this is not the kind of love which I re- 
quire, or which I can be satisfied with. Your love for 
Me must be an affection of the will ; it must be a 
moral choice of Me, in preference to sin and the 
world ; and must show itself in embradng My will, 
both by active obedience and passive submission. It 
must be grounded upon a perception of My excellence, 
and of the benefits received from Me, and must enable 
you to find in the single-minded effort to please Mo a 
satisfoction purer, higher, and of a different order, 
than is to be found in any earthly gratifications." 

It is quite conceivable that the first disciples of 
Christ may have needed this warning, even more than 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



346 The Love of God [chap, 

we ouraelvea. " Though we have known Christ after 
the flesh " (says St. Paul, identifying himself for the 
moment with the original Apostles, and throwing 
himself into their position), "yet now henceforth 
know we Him no more." Quite natural must it have 
been for St, Peter aad St. John to know Christ " after 
the Sesh," and to love Him after the flesh. The win- 
ning suavity of His demeanor ; His condescending 
gentleness to the weak, the fallen, the aufiering', 
mingled with His heroic defiance of hypocrisy, and 
His stem love of Truth ; His patient submissiveness 
to the Father's will; and the entrancing radiations 
of the Grodhcadj which must have sometimes strug- 
gled forth from His voice, features, and gestures — 
must, one would think, have surrounded Him in their 
minds with (wliat I must call) a sentimental beauty, 
and must have conciliated to Him a sentimental affec- 
tion. But He here makes known to them that this 
affection would not suffice. Their love was not to be 
manifested by tender regrets, fond lingering on the 
old bygone days when He companied with them in 
the flesh, fond associations of places connected with 
Him, fond reminiscences of His manner and words. 
They were to know Him and to love Him " after the 
spirit" — not as their human friend, but as their ever- 
present Gfod, " the strength of their heart and their 
portion forever," Ho gave them, indeed, a precious 
token in the Eucharist, by which to call to mind His 
sojourn with them ; but this single condescension to 
the love of sentiment Ho crowned with the dignity 
of a Sacrament, and made it for His Church generally 
not so much the means of commemorating an absent, 
as of communicating with a present Saviour. And in 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



XXI.] a PrineipU rather than a Sentiment. SiT 

my judgment, it is a great evidence of the inspiratioa 
whicli held the minds of the Apostles in check, ■while 
they wrote, that the mere love of sentiment toward 
Christ is never heard in their ■writings ; St. Peter and 
St. John may be mentioned historically in the Gospels 
as manifeating fechng of this kind on one or two oc- 
casions ; but in their Epistles yon find no trace of 
snch love ; the human friend seema to have vanished 
from their memory ; and Jesns, viewed under the light 
of Pentecost, is simply the Redeeming God, the One 
Mediator, the only Name given among men 'whereby 
■we must be saved. 

Reader, are you looking at Him in the point of 
view in which they present Him ? Is your love for 
the Saviour something more and deeper than a more 
sentimental appreciation of the beauty of His char- 
acter? How far does it reside in the will— this love? 
how far in the judgment and moral sense ? I am sure 
that tliere may be, even in ourselves, a picturesque- 
ness of impression about Christ without the least real 
appreciation of Him. Do you hve ranch with Him, 
and love to live with Him, in thought and in prayer ? 
Do you honor Him by drawing Him into use in all 
His offices of Grace ? Can you yield up your will 
into His hands, to choose for yourself nothing else 
than He chooses for you? Does the satisfaction of 
trying to please Him — an effort which is never made 
in vain — excel every other in a certain high and pure 
flavor ? These are the questions which must deter- 
mine the genuineness of our love for Him. And 
genuine love is the only safe evidence of genuine 
faith in Him. And on faith in Him is suspended our 
salvation. On them only who love Cri s t rests the 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



us The Love, of God, etc. [chap. 

Apostolic benediction: " Grace be with, all them that 
love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity." And, lest 
any suppose that, though the love of Him be laud- 
able, indifference to Him is excusable, the same 
Apostle sounds in our ears the extremes* malediction 
on those who love Him not: " If any man love not 
the Lord Jesus Chi'lst, let him be Anathema Maran- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



:ii.] What shuts out Christ from our Mearts f 349 



CHAPTER XXIL 

"WHAT BHinS OUT CHEIST FROM OUE HEAET3 ? 
" There inas Jio room for litem in Ihe iiiii."— Luee ii. 7. 

THOSE who have followed along our course of 
arguinent in the preseat treatise will probably 
come to the conclusion, that, if Holiness be what we 
have described it to be, the great majority of persons 
who pass for religious with themselves and otiierst 
nay, to whom the credit of being in a greater or less 
degree religious cannot be denied, are very backward 
in the puTsiiit of it. It may be profitable in this con- 
cluding Chapter to explore the causes of this baok- 
WiJrdness. In doing so we sliall see how to remedy 
what is amiss in us. And this accidental advantage 
also will accrue, that we shall be fimiifihed with tests 
of spiritual progress, which we may apply to our own 
hearts. 

Now, first, it is evident that our backwardness in 
true religion (or, in other words, in the knowledge and 
love of God) cannot in any measure be attributed to 
God Himself. God is a full-charged fountain of grace, 
who seeks to inundate every humao intelligence and 
every human heart with His knowledge and His love. 
And we are told emphatically that He " is no re- 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



S50 WAat shuts out Christ from our Hearts ? [chap, 

specter of persona ; " He is not partial in the gifts and 
influences wHch He distributes. Human parents have 
often favorites among their children, whom they in- 
dulge with the coat of many colors, and the Ben- 
jamin's mess. But God has no such weak fondness 
in the treatment of IRs children ; if He loves one 
better than another, it is because that one is worthier 
of His love. God in grace is like the sun in Nature, 
whose property it is to diffuse itself into every cranny, 
where it is not absolutely shut out; or like the pre- 
cious dew of heaven, which drops indifferently on the 
salt places of the wilderness and on the rich and frui1> 
ful soil. God may say to His people, as the Apostle 
said to the Corinthians; " my people, my mouth is 
opened unto you, my heart is enlarged. Ye are not 
straitened in me, but ye are straitened in your own 
bowels." These (though they are not so applied 
by the inspired writer) are exactly the accents in 
which Grod addresses every human soul. He is im- 
patient of being perfectly loved by every soul ; long- 
ing and desirous to pour out upon every soul the 
riches of His mercy and grace. He laments our nar- 
rowness ; He beseeches us to be enlarged in om- own 
hearts, and to make a worthy response to His 
affection. 

And this reference leads us on a step further in our 
argument. It is in ourselves that we are straitened, 
and not in God, The sun may shed his light and 
warmth around, so that there is nothing hid from the 
beat thereof ; but if a man constructs a hovel of boards, 
and stops the chinks between the boards with thick 
clay, the sun's rays cannot reach him. The dew may 
drop on the wilderness ; but the salt places and the 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



XXII.] What shuts Ota Christ from our Mearts ? 251 

heath have no capacity of briiiging forth a crop. The 
water of the river may be free to all coiners, but with- 
out a vessel to contain it, it cannot be drunk, and with 
only a small vessel it cannot be drunk in large meas- 
ure. Christ may oome to the door of the inn, desiring 
to take up His abode there ; but if there is no room 
for Him, He must be cradled in the manger outside. 
Aa inn — what an appropriate figure of the soul of 
man as it is by nature I What a multiplicity and 
what a prodigious variety of thoughts are always com- 
ing and going in the soul — the passengers these which 
throng the inn, and some of whom are so fugitive, that 
they do not even take up their abode there for the 
night ! And what distraction, discomposing, and 
noise, do these outgoing and incoming thoughts pro- 
duce, so tbat perhaps scarcely ever in the day is our 
mind collected and calm, except just for the few mo- 
ments spent in private prayer before we lie down and 
when we rise — the hurry and confusion this, produced 
by the constant arrivals at, and departures from, an 
inn I And then some of these thoughts leave traces 
of defilement upon the soul, as they pass away, much 
as the careless and slovenly wayfarer leaves a soil or a 
rent upon the furniture. And, by way of completing 
the figure, Christ offers Himself at the door of the soul, 
as the passenger offers himself at the door of an inn. 
He seeks and longs to pass into the soul, that He may 
take up His abode there, and dwell in the teait by 
faith. "Behold," cries He, " I stand at the door, and 
knock : if any man hear My voice, and open the door, 
I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he 
with Me." Oh 1 it is because we do not give Him 
room to work within us, that He works so faintly and 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



25a What shifts out Christ fvom our Smrts? [cuap. 

feebly in our souls. It is because we bring such poor 
narrow hearts to Him, tbat we receive so little of His 
fulness. It is because we close ourselves up in the 
chamber of our selfishness, iliat we inhale so seldom 
the free, fresh atmosphere of His Spirit, 

" There was no room for thorn in the inn." Now 
in what does the obstade to Christ's entrance into our 
hearts consist ? "What is it which occupies the room 
which he seeks and condescendingly asks to occupy ? 
Two things principally, under wliich all othera will 
fell : first self-wiU, and then confidence in the creature 
for happiness. 

1, First, self-will. The least trace of self-wiU ex- 
cludes j»7? tanto God and His working from the soul. 
Absolute surrender to His Will and Word in every 
thing is the only condition on which the Lord will take 
up His abode in the depth of the soul, and give to the 
heart that calm and repose, which only His Presence 
can give. There are many Christians who, in seeking 
counsel and help from God, are not perfectly sincere, do 
not absolutely resign their will into His hand. They 
" keep back part of the price " in their dealings with 
Him, make reserves, and except certain districts of 
their life from Hi^ jurisdiction. They make the vain 
attempt to serve two masters, seeking to please God 
much, and themselves a little, in what, they do. They 
are quite willing to pray, and read the Holy Scriptures, 
and attend Public Worship, and receive Holy Com- 
muni(Hi ; but they have a great dislike to be pressed 
upon such points as systematic almsgiving, fe,stiug, 
restraint o£ the tongue, self-denial in recreatioi^, and 
mortification of the will, although they have a grow- 
ing conviction in their minds that God requires from 

Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



ssii.j What shuts out Christ from our JHearts ? 253 

tbem eome measure of these things. They have not 
that delicate sensibility to God's inspirations which 
He loves to find in a soul, and whicb, when He does 
find it, enables Him to do many mighty works therein. 
You know how delicately a wind-vane is poised on the 
top of a building-, so that with the slightest breath of 
wind (hardly sufficient on a hot day to fan the cheek 
agreeably) it veers round at once. It is so in Nature ; 
but alaa ! in the moral world there is many a wJU which 
does not sit loose upon its pivot, but is fixed in the 
quarter to which its natural inclinations point, and which 
moves not, therefore, ■when the breath of God's Spirit 
seeks to turn it. And observe that wc are not now 
speaking so much of cases in which there is a positive 
and well-defined right and wrong, and where the right 
and wrong might be determined by the Ten Command- 
ments, or the Nine Beatitudes, or some other outward 
law. The principles of all right conduct and of all 
rig-ht sentiment are no doubt laid down with perfect 
cleaMiess in the Holy Scripture ; but we need for the 
conduct of daily life something more than this — it is 
necessary that we should see the right application of 
these principles to the ever-new and unforeseen open- 
ings for moral conduct which are continually presented 
tft us. And this cannot be done by any outward rule, 
written, and printed on paper, however perfect. It 
can only be done by submission to the will to what is 
called " the law of the Spirit of Life in Christ Jesus," 
that is, by compliance with the instigations which on 
such occasions the Spirit of God makes iu the heari; of 
those who are sincerely and singly desirous of pleas- 
ing Him. " "Wc do not cease to pray for you," says 
St. Paul, " and to desire that ye might be filled with 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



254 What shiUs out Christ from our Hearts? [chap. 

tlie knowledge o£ His wail in all wisdom and spiritual 
understanding." Is it to be supposed tiiat the Colos- 
sians were ignorant of the literal rule o£ duty, as 
given in the Law and expounded by Christ ? No ; 
what the Apostle supplicated for them waa their 
direction by God's Holy Spirit as to His Will in par- 
ticular cases. And again: "This I pray, that your 
love may abound yet more and more in knowledge 
and in all judgment ; that ye may approve things that 
are excellent ; that ye may be sincere and without 
offence in the day of Christ." As a man increases in 
earnest love to Christ, a delicate tact grows up within 
him, a spiritual instinct, which teaches him (without 
any book) what he ought to say and do, and what he 
had better avoid on each particular occasion. True 
love, even human and earthly love, is full of sensibil- 
ities ; every one is aware how a person, whom he 
loves and seeks to please, will take a thing ; without 
being wrong or coarsely offensive, it would be simply 
out of taste to say or do such and such things before 
such a person ; they would jar upon him. There is 
something of the same kind in Divine love, the true 
lover of Christ being made sensitive by the Holy 
Spirit as to the line of conduct which pleases or dis- 
pleases Him. " I will instruct thee and teach thee in 
the way which thou shalt go ; " this is God's gracious 
promise by the Psalmist : " and J will guide thee with 
mine eye. Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, 
which have no understanding ; whose mouth must be 
held in with bit and bridle." Everybody knows 
what the guidance of a mother's eye is, while the chil- 
dren are around her. She need not speak. A glance 
and the expression o£ her countenance convey her 



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XXII.] 'What shuts out Christ from our Searts ? 355 

wisbes sufficiently. She lookis up in alarm, and her eye 
warns the Httle ones away from danger ; they are in- 
dustrious, and hereye betokens approval ; or they are 
too frolicsome, and a look of displeasure checks them, 
God's children, too, know the moaning of His eye. 
They know, by the glance He gives them, what path 
He would have them pursue, and what avoid. He 
never leaves them without an interior indication of 
His will, if they have but one desire, that of pleasing 
Him. And why these indications are so rarely made 
is, that God sees people are not quite disposed to ac- 
cept them, not prepared in all things to move in the 
i^rection indicated. The soul must be empty ofsdf- 
wUl, before God can work in it. We fulfil the desires 
of the flesh and of the mind — that is, we live accord- 
ing to the inclinations of Nature (not necessarily 
coarse or vicious inclinations), and the thoughts which 
she prompts. And while this is the case, Christ is 
shut out. " There is no room for Him in the inn," 

3. The second thing wliich takes up room in the 
soul that Christ ought to occupy, is confidence in the 
creature for happiness. When I speak of the creature, 
I do not intend any other source of enjoyment but 
such as in itself is innocent, I merely mean worldly 
and created good in any of its forms — money, and the 
comforts money will buy ; the sympathies of relations 
and friends, which no money can buy ; and, in short 
the whole circle of blessings (commonly so called), 
which yet are not communion with God, and the 
knowledge and enjoyment of His perfections. Who 
shall say (without very special g^ace, and an extraor- 
nary measure of Divine illumination) how far his 
affection is set upon the earthly blessings with which 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



350 WAat shuts out Christ from our Hearts? [chap. 

liis cup is crowned ; how far lie is seeking in tliem a. 
Batisfeotion wliich thoy can never give ; how far, if they 
were removed, he could still console himself in that 
communion with the Father of spirits, which alone 
does satisfy? It is but too easy to deceive ourselves 
in this matter, while the earthly blessings remain with 
us. A man who swims upon bladders is apt to con- 
ceive that he could easily dispense with the support, 
and atin keep his head above the water ; nor is it easy 
to ascertain what resources he hag in himself for swim- 
ming, until the artificial support is withdrawn. Let 
me say that by way of mailing trial of his children, 
of ascertaining, or rather of certifyii^toi/temsefoes (for 
He must know, without being certified) how far they 
have their treasure in heaven, and set their affectioa 
on things above, God sometimes removes our earthly 
treasures, and withdraws one or more of the swimming 
bladders. He strilses perhaps with death's dart some 
Mend or relation, who was dear to us as our own soul, 
and to whom our affections were beginning to cleave 
idolatrously. Bo warned, all you who have earthly 
treasures, and are conscious of prizing them exceed- 
ingly, that God is certain to act thus with all those 
who are (at the ground of their hearts) His true chil- 
dren, if JBe sees the ejections of trust and love twining 
too closely around the creaMre, In very faithfulness 
to us He must then tear them away, and cause a pain- 
ful bleeding of the heart. The only way to keep our 
earthly treasures, on the assumption that we are God's 
true people, is, while we thankfully hold them of God, 
to mortify all undue attachment to them, and sternly 
to refuse to idolize them. But this by the way. — Our 
most merciful Father, in the discipline to which we 



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xxn,] What shuis out Christ from our Searta? SS? 

have referred, seldom (if ever) strips us quite tare of 
earthly blessings, and, eycn when He is obliged to use 
the praning-ktiife most sternly, always leaves some 
green spray of comfort and some blossom of hope. 
And with the blessing (or blessings) left some of the 
risks are left also — in the sad tendency of the human 
heart to cleave to what is seen, ihere can ie no Messing 
witJiout a risk. The risk is, that the heart, shut out 
firom one avenue of eaithly comfort, may, instead of 
growing wiser by this discipline, intrench itself in the 
comforts that remain, may build other tabernacles for 
its indwelling (as Peter was desirous of doing on the 
mount), which shall stand ifc in no better stead than 
the first. Oh, how long it is before a soul can perfectly 
unlearn trust in the creatures 1 Does it ever com- 
pletely tmleam this trust, while life lasts, and while 
the body of sin and death clogs it ? I suppose not. 
And this I know for certain, without any supposition, 
that God is veiy patient and gentle with us in this 
matter, never laying' upon us more than He sees we 
can well bear, never removing a blessing without a 
good reason, viewing with indulgence our every effort 
to struggle into independence of His creatures, and 
always restoring comfort to the mourner after the 
object has been achieved. This is tho lesson of the 
history of Job. Job was subjected to a most frightful 
ordeal. He was stripped bare of every thing which 
makes life (I do not say enjoyable, but) tolerable — 
property, esteem, health, relations. " Ye have heard 
of the patience of Job," says St. James, " and have 
seen the end of the Lord ; that the Lord is very pitiful, 
and of tender mercy." Now, unless we take fiiUy into 
account the indulgence shown by Gtod to His children 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



258 What shitts out Christ from our Ileai-is ? [chat. 

amidst their trials, and the gxaciousness with which 
He accepts their every effort to maintain, under such 
circumataaces, a right frame of mind, we might be sur- 
prised at the Scripture's attributing patience to Job. 
He certainly bemoaned hinaself very grievously, wished 
he had never been bom, requested for himself that ho 
might die, and so on. But, under all his groaning, 
God saw the germ o£ a true resignation in those early 
words of his ; " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord" . . . 
" What ? shall we receive good at the hand of God, and 
shall we not receive evil?" God, considering the 
excessive burdensomeness of Job's trials, and the 
dimness with which the compensatory life beyond 
the grave had been revealed before the Incarnation, 
accounted this truo germ of patieace for patience; 
and, when He had taught Job the spiritual lessons 
which he needed to learn, returned to him with a pros- 
perity in every respect double of that which he had 
originally enjoyed. 

But it may be pertinently asked whether all ap- 
preciation and enjoyment of created good (in any 
shape, however innocent) takes up the room in the 
heart which Grod ought to ocoupy— whether (to put 
the question in other words) all pleasm'es, except such 
as are of a religious character, are denied to a Chris- 
tian? Most assure^ not. The attempt to crush 
in ourselves our appreciation of eartbly blessings 
would, as unnatural, recoil upon us. And such an at- 
tempt would be as unscriptural as it is unnatural. Of 
the ascetioiam which in the latter days should lay its 
ban upon marriage and upon meats, and which should 
usurp in the minds of some the place of Christian mor- 



Ho-odt,CoOgk' 



xxn,] What shuts out Christ froirh<y>Ar Hearts? 259 

tification, St. Paul says ^ (what stronger thing could 
he say ?) that it is a departure from the faith, a doc- 
trine inculcated hy devils and seducing spirits. And 
we may say of the whole compass o£ earthly hlessings 
what there he says of food ; " Every creatiire of God 
is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received 
with thanksgiving," It is not mere enjoyment of the 
creature, hut trust in the creature to satisfy^ all the 
deep cravings of tTis soul, wHch excludes God and 
Christ from the heart. Nay; a moderate and chast- 
ened enjoyment of the creature actually contributes 
to our sanctification, inasmuch as it acts as a stimu- 
lant to gratitude. We must learn the art of tasting 
the various blessings with which God crowns our cup, 
without being engrossed or taken up with them, with- 
out suffering them to quench the high aspirations of 
our soul after Communion with God. This is a lesson 
which it takes long practice, much self-control, and 
great discipline of God's Providence, and Spirit, to 
teach. Hear the language of experience : " I have 
never leaned toward my comforts," says Mr. Cecil, 
" without finding them give way. A sharp warning 
has met me that these arc aliens ; and as an alien live 
thou among them. We may take up the pitcher to 
drmic, but, the moment we begin to admire, God in 
love to us will dash it to pieces," Perhaps the quaint 
and yet graceful imagery of good George Herbert 
may assist us in understanding what is required of us 
in this matter : 

" All ci'eaturea have their joy : 

Yet, if we rightly measure, 

Man's joy and pleasure 
Bather hereafter than at preSBut is. 
I 1 Tim. iv. 1, S, 4. 



Ho-odt,Googk' 



360 What shuts cnit Christ from our Hearts f [oiiap. 

Not that he may not here 

Taeto of the cheer ; 
But, 33 birda drink and straight lift up their head, 

So he must eip, and think 

Of better drink 
Ho may attain to after he ia dead." 

But, alas ! men will not sip y for they find temperanoe 
very hard — much harder than total abstinence. They 
lyill either drink to intoxication, or not taste a drop. 
ITie one party are led by their lusts ; the other are 
perverse in declining what Heaven gives as a sweet 
relief. Both arc true children of mother Eve, who 
ate greedily the forbidden fruit ; while at the same 
time she peevishly aggravated the Divine require- 
menia. Whereas God had said only, " Te shall not 
eat of the fruit," she added to His word a restriction 
out of her own naughty heart : " Grod hath said," she 
murmnred, "ye shall not eat of it, neither sJuxM ye 
touah it, lest ye die." The whole doctrine of asceti- 
cism, branded by St. Paul as a " doctrine of devils," is 
wrapped up in that clause, " neither shall ye touchit." 
Eve had admitted the insintiationa of the seducing 
spirit, before she so imsrepresented the precept of the 
Blessed God, 

In conclusion ; let every reader apply to himself 
what has been said, by asking whether the reason of 
his slow advance in grace may not bo that, either by 
self-will, or by trust in creatures, he gives Christ no 
room to work in his heart. Are you heartUy willing 
to be alt, and to do all, that God requires ? And doth 
your soul pant after Him, " as the hart desireth the 
water-brooks ; " or, on the other hand, wouM you he 
well contenteil with His blessings^ in the absence of 



Ho-odt,Coogk' 



XXII,] Wliat shuts out Christ from our Hearts? 361 

Simself? This earthly contentment will, must ex- 
clude Him from the soul. There is no room for Him 
in the inn, so long as tliere is no desire but for His 
gifts — noae for Himself. In tiat case, repulsed from 
the door of the heart, which He has in vain wooed 
and sought to win. He must lie without. His head 
fillecl with dew, and His locks with the drops of the 
night. Good reacler, pray that it may be neither your 
own case, nor that of him who now bids yon AmEir. 



Ho-odt,GoOgk' 



Ho-odt,Googk'